Into Esthar
by Chemotaxis
Summary: Set two and a half years after the Second Sorceress War. Squall and Seifer have moved on with their lives, but a chance encounter in Esthar confronts them with their past. Yaoi. Seifer/Squall. Written by Wolkje & Chemotaxis. WIP.
1. Esthar Mornings

**Title**: Into Esthar

**Written by**: Wolkje & Chemotaxis

**Betaed by**: Aerawyn (thank you!)

**Disclaimer**: We do not own Final Fantasy or any of the characters in this story, nor do we profit from writing this story.

**Warnings**: Language, Sex, Drugs, Yaoi (male x male). Do not read this if you are not allowed to do so according to the laws of your country (explicit sexual behavior, homosexuality).

**Summary:** Set two and a half years after the Second Sorceress War. Squall and Seifer have moved on with their lives, but a chance encounter in Esthar confronts them with their past.

**Notes**: First of all, apologies to anyone who might have read Easily Frozen or Arcane Crisis and has been waiting for an update. This is what happened instead and it seems it has taken over our lives. It's a story based on a role play that is still on-going. Since we're both into stories that pay attention to detail and slow building relationships, this includes both. And to showcase that we're in this for the long run:

February 6th, 2010 - chat log:

Wolkje: Hmmm, you know what I've been wanting to try out? Us, writing something together!

Chemotaxis: That'd be fun - I'd love to do that :) I think it might have to wait for the summer holidays from my side though :/ Unless we try a roleplay and then write a story from that.

February 7th, 2010:

The fated day "Ficzilla" was born! (Yes, that's our nickname for this story, in case anyone was fooled by the professional looking info above into believing that we're not absolutely _mad_.) And we haven't spent a day not thinking/writing/brainstorming since. Seriously. We're really hoping you guys will get just as hooked and will be in it for the long run as well!

Now on to the story...

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**~ Chapter One - Esthar Mornings ~**

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**[Rinoa Heartilly and Squall Leonhart's Apartment, Layon Tower, Wednesday, 15th of October, 5:00 am]**

Pulled from a deep, dreamless sleep by the unforgiving blare of his alarm clock, Squall immediately started into awareness, alert eyes opening to complete darkness. With a quick move he silenced the obtrusive sound before it could travel through the apartment and wake Rinoa. Letting his mind float along the intimate bond tying them together, he immediately brushed upon the familiar presence of his sorceress. Reassured the raven haired woman was still sound asleep, he languidly rolled onto his back and allowed himself a few more minutes under the soft duvet before the inevitable start of a long day. His schedule for the day was a busy one; he most likely wouldn't see his bed again until very late that evening.

After a last stretch of long limbs and a reluctant glance in the direction of glowing red digits signaling yet another minute had passed, Squall pushed up from the mattress with a soft groan. Padding to the large floor-to-ceiling window taking up the entire south wall, he drew back heavy curtains, ignoring the switch located just above the bedside table that would do the easy task for him. He would never get used to such unnecessary luxuries, but the large apartment Rinoa had picked some six months ago was littered with them. Though _apartment_ was hardly an accurate term. Somehow she'd managed to find a two-story penthouse in what she called a 'prime location' between Odine's lab, the presidential palace, and the bustling shopping district at the heart of Esthar: three places Squall would rather avoid. But there was no denying the convenience of being less than a twenty-five minute drive away from Odine's lab. Rinoa's deteriorating condition had become too alarming and exceeded Kadowaki's abilities to treat. As a result they had moved to seek the assistance of the eccentric doctor.

In spite of the steep rent and the overly spacious interior, he had indulged Rinoa when she'd set her eyes on the place. He had wanted to make the move away from Balamb Garden as relaxed and void of stress as possible for her. If the ridiculously lavish penthouse could offer her some distraction, then the price tag attached to it didn't matter much. Besides, ever since they moved to Esthar he rarely stayed for longer than a week at a time anyway, his position as commander often keeping him away from the high-tech capital for long periods. Most of his nights were still spent in standard SeeD quarters, nondescript hotel rooms, or field beds if his mission allowed for even such comfort.

In reality, Rinoa's choice in apartment was of little consequence to him, save for some mild annoyance whenever he came back from a longer mission and had to readjust to such fanciful things as needlessly large walk-in closets or toilet seats cleaning themselves with an automated whir. Some Estharian technology was just absurdly excessive. He had been told by his friends that Rinoa had managed a tasteful job of decorating the place, but he could care less about interior design, practicality always being foremost on his mind. He was happy enough that Rinoa hadn't resorted to the color scheme of her quarters in the Forest Owls' former base.

With the curtains drawn back completely, cold neon light fell into the guest room and cast odd shadows across the bare walls. Outside a soft haze of light pollution lay over the city, the darkness of night never really claiming the brightly lit metropolis. There were no stars visible, even though sunrise was still more than an hour away. Letting his eyes wander the pristine walkways below and the gleaming horizon of glass and metal skyscrapers, their shapes too odd and irregular, Squall let a sigh escape as he rested his forehead against cool glass. He'd only been back for a few days and already he felt out of place. He doubted Esthar would ever feel like home, the quiet and thinly populated town of Balamb suiting him far better. When they had first moved to Esthar, he'd been surprised to find that he missed the salty air and temperate sea breeze. For as long as he could remember, he'd always lived by the sea, while Esthar lay in the middle of a vast desert.

Starting from his reverie, he dragged a slow hand through brown bangs and turned his back to the panoramic view of the sleepless city. He had to start getting ready, if he still intended to go over the documents for work and not be late. Closing the door of the guest room behind him, careful not to make any noise, he walked into the hallway. As he quietly passed Rinoa's bedroom, he could practically _feel_ her, the image of long black hair draped on a pillow and soft features innocent with sleep easily materializing in his mind's eye. Her aura seemed peaceful, undisturbed. Hopeful that her frustration with him had dwindled somewhat over the past two days spent together, he didn't linger and made his way to the kitchen downstairs.

With his usual meals consisting of a quick visit to the cafeteria or vacuum wrapped rations, he was hardly a mastermind in the kitchen. A simple breakfast of coffee and toast would suffice though, especially keeping in mind the formal banquet he was supposed to attend later that day, along with the dignitaries that would be present at the morning's meeting. He inwardly groaned at the unappealing prospect, but Quistis had pressed him into agreeing, maintaining it was crucial for Garden and SeeD to showcase their good intentions. Considering the sensitive nature of the matter that would be discussed, Squall knew the strict woman was right, but it didn't make him any more eager to start the day. Diplomacy wasn't in his nature, the necessity to keep his blunt opinions to himself when faced with incompetent officials a taxing one. He'd been awake fewer than fifteen minutes and already a scowl had found its way onto his face.

Steering clear of the more complicated kitchen appliances, Squall went about the simple tasks of starting the coffee machine and popping two slices of bread into the toaster. Procuring some jam from the fridge and a large mug from the cupboards, his unimaginative breakfast sat ready on the kitchen table next to his laptop a few minutes later.

Woken by the brunet's early morning activities, Angelo came padding into the kitchen with a lazy trot, dark eyes peering at the source of soft noises and appetizing scents with a hopeful gleam of curiosity. Well aware that the large dog would be staring at him with pleading eyes for the better part of his breakfast, Squall gave dark fur a thorough ruffle before he walked up to the leftmost lower cupboard. This earned him a happily wagging tail as Angelo followed him across the kitchen, the dog fully knowledgeable about the scrumptious treats residing in said cupboard. Having set out a bowl of water and a tray filled with slippery, meaty chunks, Squall sat himself down for his own morning ritual.

As he absentmindedly ate his bland meal, he worked his way through some mails and confirmed the rendezvous point where he'd be meeting up with two SeeD officers. Opening the files Quistis had sent him for some last minute revision, focused eyes skimmed over the list of people who would be present at the meeting one last time, absorbing the information listed under each name and the accompanying pictures. Some of them were politicians he'd already met in the course of his career, but there were still quite a few new faces; mainly key figures from the Estharian government, military and SCTA.

Having plowed through all the necessary documentation and certain all details of the day's meeting were imprinted in his mind, Squall finally closed his laptop and cleared the kitchen table. Moving to put his plate and mug in the dishwasher, he halted in his footsteps when his eyes caught the calendar hanging nearby. Roused from her post-binge nap, a silent huff sounded as Angelo pushed up and trotted after him, the dog hoping for some pats that didn't come.

Rinoa's flowing and rounded handwriting was scribbled all over, the young woman clearly keeping busy whenever he wasn't home. Everything from plans with friends and birthdays of people he didn't know to the date her library books were due was featured on the brightly colored calendar. Struck by the fact that their lives couldn't be any more different, his eyes traveled to the bold red writing adorning October the fifth.

The enthusiastically underlined words "pick up Squall" caused a familiar twinge of guilt to well up in his chest. He had thought he'd be able to make it to Esthar by the fifth, but his mission had lasted well until the twelfth. The circumstances forcing him to stay in the field longer than anticipated had been beyond his control, but that mattered little to Rinoa when it meant his time in Esthar had been shortened by seven days. His periods of absence had long been a sore point between them and were part of the reason their relationship had ended.

Staring at the bright red letters for a few seconds longer, Squall's gaze was drawn to the neatly written "2:00 pm, Odine" next to October the fifteenth. As usual, Rinoa had asked him to come along to her appointment, the young woman not at all comfortable in the presence of the harebrained scientist turned doctor. Wanting nothing more than to help relieve her anxiety, he had instantly agreed. Even if they weren't a couple anymore, he would always be her knight. As long as Rinoa needed him, he'd always come back to their apartment in Esthar. In a way they both still needed each other. After the war his sorceress had dulled his nightmares and anxieties for him one by one and made him numb to the wound left by the Second Sorceress War. Thanks to her soothing presence at the back of his mind, he had remained functional, his thoughts mercifully empty whenever he needed them to be.

Besides, in reality not that much had changed. There hadn't really been any intimacy for a long time by the time Rinoa had ended things. His relocation to the guest room had been the only noteworthy change, a merely formal one at that. And just as before, he was more absent than present. Not much had changed at all, his life still pretty much the same as it had been before their breakup. Squall couldn't help but wonder what that said about their failed relationship. If he was completely honest with himself, he didn't understand much of it. But then again, he'd never exactly been boyfriend material to begin with. Perhaps he was just missing the glaringly obvious.

At the soft press of a wet nose against his hand and a questioning whine, he tore his eyes away from the calendar and his mind from darkening thoughts. Meeting Angelo's confused gaze and squatting down to rub and scratch behind keen ears, Squall wished his own worries could be dispelled so easily. With a last soft pat and a firmly spoken command to "stay," he directed his thoughts back onto the right track, before he got up and headed towards the bathroom attached to the guest room upstairs. Stripping down and letting his drawstring pants drop to the floor, he stepped into the shower and let cool water run down his limbs in order to clear his mind. With a soft sigh, he briefly focused on the sound of the hard spray drumming onto his shoulders and back, before he started to methodically wash himself down and prepare mentally for the coming day.

Towel wrapped around his waist, he emerged from the bathroom moments later and made for the "closet" he shared with Rinoa across the hallway. One glance in the mirror had told him he didn't need to shave just yet, so halfheartedly combing his fingers through rebellious wet locks and a quick spray of deodorant was all the grooming he would conform to. All that was left was locating his uniform, which was easier said than done.

Several minutes later, after having examined rotating racks, drawers and shelves containing clothes Rinoa had picked out for him, he still hadn't found what he needed. Grumbling a silent complaint about owning more crap than he'd ever get around to wearing, he eyed the tidily stacked abundance of plain clothing with a scowl. Though he understood the logic of dressing more inconspicuously when amongst civilians in order not to stand out too much and protect his identity, he definitely preferred his battle-worn gear. He'd choose the feel of leather softened with use over starkly pressed dress shirts any day.

"Looking for this?"

Startled by the soft voice coming from behind him, Squall turned around to regard the sleep mussed woman with a raised eyebrow. Only wearing one of his larger t-shirts and the jewelry that made up her magic inhibitors, Rinoa stood in the doorway and teasingly dangled his SeeD uniform in front of him, neatly arranged on a hanger. "I picked it up from the drycleaner yesterday. I told you I left it in the laundry room."

"Did I wake you up?" he asked evasively, not commenting on her implication he hadn't been listening again.

"No," she replied simply, brown eyes studying his undressed state for a few seconds, before she walked in farther and handed Squall his uniform. Small hand resting on his arm and gaze unreadable, the raven haired woman lingered close enough for him to smell the lavender scent clinging to her hair and skin. "Want me to make you some breakfast?" she offered in a soft tone of voice, tendrils of her consciousness softly snaking and weaving into his in the kind of morning greeting he hadn't received in a long while.

Puzzled at the kind treatment he was receiving, but wise enough not to question it, Squall allowed for the warmth coursing through their bond to soothe his nerves. If anything, he was glad Rinoa's mood seemed to have picked up considerably in comparison to the night before. He felt himself relax as their minds softly intertwined, the touch frail but comforting. "I already ate," he answered after a moment's delay.

An approving hum was all the answer he got, as Rinoa cocked her head to the side and eyed him curiously, able to feel his restlessness through their bond. "It's rare for you to be this worked up over a meeting," she pointed out neutrally, fingertips brushing along his lower arm a second longer before reluctantly breaking contact.

"I'm not," he replied curtly, a frown betraying his annoyance with himself. Distancing himself from his sorceress and turning his back to her scrutinizing gaze, Squall pulled his uniform from its hanger with a little bit more force than necessary. He didn't like the thought of having to disclose his identity to yet a few more possibly backstabbing politicians and military figures, especially considering the fact that Garden's proposition that day wouldn't inspire much goodwill in any of them. Dropping his towel, he selected a black pair of boxer briefs and started to dress with brisk movements, his mood souring once more. He wasn't very good at first impressions, disbelief and mockery always amongst the first responses he received upon revealing himself as Commander Leonhart. Not that he cared about what anyone thought. He could just do without the waste of time it took for others to take him seriously.

"They always do in the end," Rinoa's voice sounded firmly in response to his thoughts. Stopping mid-movement of buttoning up his pants, Squall glanced over his shoulder with a slight frown in place. Rinoa just stood leaning against the door frame, eyeing him intently.

"Don't do that," he muttered, returning his attention to his uniform and slipping on the uncomfortably stiff shirt. If his sorceress's calming effect was a perk of sharing a bond with her, then having his head peered into was an undeniable down side. She hadn't done so in ages, which left him confused, but apparently this morning was different in several ways.

"What? Look at you?" Rinoa questioned irritably, clearly irked by his dismissal. "Come here," she ordered immediately after, brown eyes taking in the brunet's too rushed movements and the sloppy result. Receiving only a warning look in response to her prompt, she sighed in exasperation. "Come _here_, so I can help you with that," she explained, pointing a finger at the careless arrangement of his uniform.

"I don't n—" he started, but quickly reconsidered at the growing touch of dejection to Rinoa's expression. He could feel it rather than see it, but it was there. Not wanting to ruin her mood or remind her of her anger with him the past few days, he decided it would be best to humor her this time. Walking up to the young woman, he let her fuss with the buttons and pressed collar, relieved at the small upward curl of rosy lips.

"You don't care half as much about appearances as you should," she reprimanded with a playful tug at his collar. Slender fingers traveled down unhurriedly, before they moved to tuck his shirt into black pants with slow deliberate moves. "You don't do things their way, yet you're successful. That's what confuses them, you know. More than your age..." She paused briefly to inspect her work from a slight distance. Looking up to meet Squall's gaze, she continued softly, "...or your face."

Increasingly uncomfortable, dark eyebrows drew together in confusion at his sorceress' behavior and words. Usually she avoided close proximity like this. "Rino-"

"Now the jacket," she immediately interrupted, pulling away before he had the chance to. Retrieving the black uniform jacket and pushing it into his hands, the young woman watched with an inspecting gaze as he put it on. Apparently she was pleased enough with the outcome, since no corrections ensued. Compliantly, he let her add the touches that would distinguish his uniform as that of the Commander and quelled his annoyance.

"Relax, Squall," she admonished as she arranged the more elaborately embroidered shoulder pieces, their gold and red threading gleaming under the soft overhead light. "Hand me the chains," came Rinoa's next order, her one hand held out whilst the other was still making minute adjustments to his shoulder pieces. No choice but to comply, he stood still as ornamental chains and dark red belts were attached to hold the contraption that was his rigid uniform together, the clasps fashioned to resemble his Griever necklace.

Twisting out of her reach, he gave a few testing shrugs of his shoulders and groaned inwardly at discovering the uniform felt just as uncomfortable as the last time he had worn it.

Eyes sparkling in amusement at the brunet's obvious dislike of the uniform, Rinoa supplied as sweetly as possible, "Ah. I forgot the cuff links."

"Having fun?" he muttered darkly, but immediately felt his annoyance dwindle at the sight of the smile playing on those lips. It was good to see her smile like that after two days of being ignored.

"Yes," she teased, closing in on him with feigned evil intent, before she pinned the silver cuff links in place. Humming her approval at the final result, she said quietly, "To think you worry about first impressions."

The statement made Squall frown in puzzlement. "Even you didn't like me much at first," he pointed out evenly. Which was an understatement. To his surprise, Rinoa laughed in response.

"Oh, but that was my _second_ impression," she replied in a conspiring sort of way. When no understanding dawned in gray-blue eyes, the girl sighed. Deciding to take pity on the clueless man, she let the issue rest. "When do you have to leave?" she asked, as she turned around and left the room.

"Seven o'clock," he replied, his answer coming somewhat late as he followed her downstairs. Rinoa's comment hadn't been very comforting, nor had it made much sense.

In the hallway, Angelo skidded across slippery tiles as she raced to meet her mistress. Not allowed to go upstairs, she had been waiting impatiently at the bottom of the stairs and now her tail swooshed back and forth in barely contained excitement as she cozied up against Rinoa's legs. "That's in ten minutes," the girl thought out loud, before stooping down and giving Angelo a few greeting pets. "Not now, smelly breath. I'll take you for a walk later," she apologized to the frolicking dog, before ushering Squall into the living room and closing the hallway door behind them.

"Did you give her that tuna thing again?" Rinoa questioned with a slight curl of her nose, as she turned to meet Squall's gaze. Greeted by total indifference, she dismissed the issue with a soft sigh. "Never mind. I'll go get your coat," she offered whilst ignoring the whines that came from the door behind her. Not waiting for an answer, she headed for the laundry room without another glance his way.

Starting into action, Squall went about arranging the most important files and his laptop into a leather workbag. By the time he had managed to fit it all inside, soft footsteps signaled Rinoa's return. "Here," she said simply, one hand holding out a black trench coat that would cover his uniform, the other a shoulder holster carrying two semi-automatic handguns. "Your favorites."

Taking the items from his sorceress unblinkingly, knowing what the addition of the holster implied, Squall asked curiously, "I just came back from clearing out entire monster nests and you're worried _now_?"

A noncommittal shrug was followed by Rinoa's softly berating voice. "Put the damned things on, Squall. I understand you can't go around carrying a gunblade in broad daylight, so just use these instead."

"I always have Lionheart nearby for emergencies. You know that," Squall reassured, but still slipped the holster belts over his shoulders in order to appease her. "It's just a meeting. Like you said."

"The hidden agendas of men are much more dangerous than any monster nest," she replied simply.

Unable to deny the truth to her statement, his life targeted on numerous occasions in the past and not by wild monsters, he swung his bag over a shoulder. "I need to go."

Nodding softly in understanding, Rinoa followed him back into the hallway, warding off a happily bouncing Angelo in the process. "Don't forget about the appointment," she reminded him, when they reached the elevator.

"I know. 2:00 pm. I'll be there," he supplied quickly, before she could express any doubt. Turning around for some last parting words as the elevator doors opened with a muted ding, he was caught off guard by a chaste kiss pressed to his lips and the distinctive scent that was a mix of lavender and Rinoa.

Too surprised to string together a response, he was pushed backwards into the elevator by two insistent hands. "Be safe," his sorceress said quietly with a small wave, before she disappeared behind two metal doors sliding shut, leaving her knight utterly confused.

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**[Seifer Almasy's Apartment, ****Zayin House, ****Wednesday, 15th of October, 5:23 am]**

Placing his key in the old lock, Seifer pushed open the door to his apartment. The living room was cast in darkness, and the faint smells of gunblade oil and metal greeted him, marking the place invariably as his. Despite the apartment's placement in one of the cheapest neighborhoods in Esthar and the building being about a hair away from falling apart, it had been his home for just over one and a half years and had grown to instill in him a sense of belonging. His apartment wasn't much, but it was his. He had earned everything in it the hard way.

It had been weeks since he had last set foot in it and all he could think of was collapsing on his comfy bed. Weeks on the road had left his body tired and battered and his limbs exhausted to the point of aching at his every move. For the briefest of moments he switched on the lights and scanned the apartment to make sure everything was as he'd left it.

Sliding his worn bag off his shoulder, he passed a hand through his hair and turned the lights back off. Unable to think straight any longer, he headed directly for his bedroom where he collapsed on top of the bed, his weary body smelly and covered in grime. He knew his bed would be caked in dirt by the time he had to get up, but he couldn't care any less. He let his body mold against the soft sheets and let his head sink deeper into the pillows as his mind drew a complete blank.

A low grunt left him mere hours later as he subconsciously moved a pillow to shield himself from the obtrusive light that spilled in through the window. Ignoring the sun's relentless attempts at stirring him awake, he turned in his bed and groaned in annoyance. As more hours passed and the heat in the room slowly became too much, he was finally pulled from his deep slumber and opened his eyes to take in the world around him. Bringing his fingers to his furrowed brow, he kneaded firmly in an effort to ease away the tiredness still all too present. With a groan, he pushed himself out of the bed and took uncoordinated steps towards the bathroom as he clumsily removed his dirty clothes.

Spotting himself in the mirror, he couldn't help a low chuckle at his own appearance. Long unkempt locks were matted with dirt, as was his tanned skin. A full grown beard framed his cheeks. "Fucking sexy, Almasy," he greeted himself, shaking his head in disbelief at his rough appearance.

Entering the shower moments later and twisting the setting to scalding hot, he enjoyed the feeling of steaming water flowing against his body. It had been weeks since he'd felt such luxury. Sighing, he began lathering himself up, his mind already moving on to plan the day ahead. He would have to pay the SCTA a visit to inform them of his return. He'd worked at the local Specialist Combat Training Academy for just over a year as a gunblade instructor. Even though he was still on the lowest instructor wage and only worked there two nights a week, he enjoyed it nonetheless. If he was lucky, he would be able to return to his usual teaching hours the following week. He couldn't wait to see if the brats had improved any since he'd been away. If not, then he would definitely take sadistic pleasure in making them painfully aware of their lack of progress. Shaking his head as he thought of the substitute instructor they always used when he was away, he couldn't help a self-satisfied smirk. The Tiamat SCTA had been damned lucky to find him.

After his stop at the SCTA, he planned on visiting his other employer, Arc Balios. Knowing the man would be impatient to get started on the weapons Seifer had just been out gathering materials for, he easily predicted a fair amount of hours spent slaving away at the forge. Even though the trips out where boring and tedious as hell, their sole content consisting of buying materials off far away strangers and digging for ore, they earned him just enough extra gil to keep him from going into the negative. When Arc had reluctantly offered that Seifer become the man's apprentice, it had been under the condition of low wages in return of hard labor for as many years as Arc deemed necessary for Seifer to prove his worth. In reality, the blond knew it was the man's way of testing his sincerity and determination, nothing more, yet it didn't really matter as he had no need for anything else.

Thoughts returning to the tasks ahead of him, he remembered some shopping would be in order as well. Anything left in his fridge would have grown a life of its own since he'd been away. From his quick glance in the mirror earlier, he also knew he'd have to fit in time for a haircut. No one would be able to recognize him if he didn't. And with the rather thoughtless abuse of his bed linen, he had to take care of that too. Unable to suppress a sigh at his growing list of menial chores, he groaned inwardly. Trained as a fighter, he had never expected his life to take such a turn for the mundane.

Drying off whilst brushing his teeth, he was pleased at the image that greeted him in the mirror. The tan he'd worked up over his weeks on the road went well with his blond hair and green eyes. Getting out his razor and shaving cream, he was almost back to his old self, his blond locks the only thing still in need of fixing. Fishing out his hair trimmer from the back of the rather cluttered cabinet under the sink, he plugged it in and began the tedious process. Zoning out, it wasn't long until he finished his task, smirking in satisfaction at the result. There was no way he wasn't getting laid that evening. He was simply too irresistible. Switching off the lights in the small bathroom, he turned around and left the room in search of clean clothes.

Donning a pair of well worn jeans and a black t-shirt, he decided he might as well get started on his long list of chores. Only managing to change the bedding, he was almost immediately distracted. Making plans for the night suddenly seemed much more interesting. Picking up his cell phone, he sat down on the clean bed and punched in the familiar number. Enjoying the cool breeze that filtered through the open window, he smiled ever so slightly as he waited for the other person to pick up.

"Calder," a male voice greeted.

"It's me," Seifer spoke, not giving away his identity, wanting to see how long it'd take for the other man to catch on. Whenever he was out on one of his trips, he never stayed in touch. He had never been one for texts, hating the act. If he wanted to talk to someone, he'd do just that. Spending ages on typing something he could easily say within seconds just seemed absurd. And distractions whilst on the road never led to anything good.

"Seifer?" the man asked, his voice easily betraying his excitement.

Seifer chuckled softly as he gave his reply. "Indeed." He couldn't help but gain satisfaction from how eager Calder sounded. Three weeks without sex was far too long. "So, you got time to meet up tonight?" he asked, never one to mince words.

"Sure," Calder replied almost instantaneously, needing no time to ponder the question. "We sparring as usual?"

Quickly running through the list of things he had to deal with before he could indulge in some much needed physical relief, Seifer grimaced, annoyance sneaking into his voice. "I still have a lot to take care of today. I don't think I can meet up until late." He paused briefly to turn his mood back around. "How about we go out to celebrate my return tonight?"

A low chuckle sounded from the other end of the line. "You're insufferable," the man commented.

Smirking in reply, Seifer got up from the bed. "Now, I _know_ that's not what you think," he retorted.

There was another bout of soft laugher before the other man spoke again. "Where are we going then?"

"You decide. Some decent music is all I need." It wasn't like Seifer was planning on staying out for long anyways.

"Sure, how about going to the Nexus then?"

"Sounds good. I'll pick up some Avalanche on the way," Seifer agreed.

More laughter filtered through the line at the added information. Calder knew exactly what Seifer meant by those words. "Well, at least I know what mood you're in," he said, knowing full well Avalanche was a favored drug of the blond's for a night of sex.

"It's been three fucking weeks," Seifer replied gruffly.

"I know. I'm not complaining," Calder commented. "Promise to get us a good supply, huh? I'm all out at the moment."

This caused a blond eyebrow to rise. "Yeah? You been busy whilst I've been away?"

"Only a couple of times..." was Calder's measured reply as he downplayed what he'd been up to whilst Seifer had been away.

Somewhat annoyed that Calder had sugarcoated his words when jealousy had never been a factor in the relaxed thing they had going, Seifer decided to ignore it and tease the guy instead. "Anyone good?" he asked with a smirk on his lips, certain the other would answer in his favor.

"You know no one is a match for you," Calder spoke smoothly, speaking the exact words he knew Seifer wanted to hear.

Smirk growing bolder, Seifer did nothing to hide his smugness at the words. "Don't you forget it." Standing up from the bed, he reluctantly resigned himself to getting on with his program for the day. "Well... I'll see you tonight then. Around one?"

"Sounds good," Calder agreed, not needing much time to ponder his reply. After a moment's pause, Seifer hung up.

Walking over to the window, Seifer closed it as he eyed the busy street below, a playful smile tugging at his lips. After he had moved to Esthar he had stayed on his own and kept to himself for a long time. He'd had it rough after the war and had led a strangely solitary lifestyle, far removed from the attention seeking teenager he'd grown up as. Calder had been the one to change that. A gunblader as well, they spent most nights together when Seifer was in Esthar.

Distracting himself from his pointless thoughts, he walked into the living room. After grabbing some food, he began emptying the bag he'd brought upstairs the night before onto his work table. He always kept some materials for himself to experiment with. Eyeing the pieces, he was suddenly eager to go to Arc's and get started on the weapons they had prepared for.


	2. Duty Bound

**~ Chapter Two - Duty Bound ~**

* * *

**[The Presidential Palace, Wednesday, 15th of October, 8:19 am]**

"If you would please step over here, sir, and place any weapon or communication device you may have on you into the designated tray. Your belongings will be returned to you after the conclusion of the banquet later today."

Gesturing in the direction of a large table set up at the side of the entrance hallway to the conference building, the young woman that had addressed Squall in a pleasant tone of voice sent him a friendly smile. Lined up along the walls were heavily armed palace guards, their somewhat outdated occupation title quite misleading when spotting their high-tech armor and state of the art rifles. If the kind-faced hostesses were meant to lessen the suffocating atmosphere of tight security, then the effort was wasted, the effect of their welcoming smiles easily negated by the multiple cameras mounted on the ceiling and several sets of unseen gazes peering from behind dark visors.

Hardly intimidated, Squall walked over to the indicated table without any qualms and placed his two guns into the tray carrying his identification code. Firearms were hardly his preferred choice of weapon anyway, the ice goddess residing in his mind far more lethal. Parting with his cell phone next and watching the friendly woman take off with his tray after a slight bow, the brunet awaited further instructions. He'd already been subjected to an iris and hand scan, his invitation letter scrutinized and confirmed several times over, before he was even allowed beyond the entrance gate. Annoyed at the excessive measures taken for a single meeting, Squall pondered the irony of owning a high level key card to Loire's private quarters and most access codes to the palace grounds, given to him by the president himself in case he wanted to "visit." He highly doubted Kiros had agreed to this or even knew of the privileges Loire had decided to grant his son. As the chief of the palace guard, the man would most likely blow a fuse.

"Please step this way, sir," another hostess requested in a friendly manner, guiding him to a large metal construction connected to a monitor and two stern-eyed overseers. Knowing from experience this meant a full body scan was next on the agenda, Squall suppressed a deep sigh. He was already running on the late side, thanks to the unnecessarily long detour his bodyguards had insisted on taking, and apparently he had been the last to arrive at the check-in point.

A few uncomfortable moments of invisible lasers raking his body later, and having received the go-ahead to proceed to the waiting room reserved for all Garden officials, the impatient brunet emerged from the lavishly mirrored elevator that had carried him to the third floor of the conference building. Walking with hurried strides through the brightly lit hallway, he could already imagine the subtle annoyance lacing Quistis's greeting words.

Coming to a halt at the double doors sporting the sign "Garden," he slipped off his black trench coat in one smooth move and stepped into the room without further delay. Inside, all heads turned to regard the latecomer. Ignoring them, Squall walked over to the coat hangers nearby.

"Unusual for you to be this late," a somewhat berating voice sounded from behind him, his presumption confirmed at detecting the hint of displeasure in Quistis' voice.

Irked, he turned round to face the immaculately dressed woman with an unimpressed glare and supplied dryly, "Tell that to the Trepies you set me up with."

The disgruntled reply caused the blonde to quirk an eyebrow, the young woman obviously not having expected the other's abysmal attitude. "What matters is that you're here now," she said firmly, not about to tolerate the conversation being steered by Squall's bad temper. "Did you go through the documents I sent you last night?"

"Yes," the brunet replied in an only slightly more affable manner. He needed to be calm in order to make it through the meeting, but that was easier said than done. "The engineers managed the deadline after all?" he asked, gaze wandering to the far back of the room where Cid was getting up from a luxuriously cushioned chair, the man excusing himself and obviously intending to leave the other two headmasters to continue the conversation on their own.

"They pulled through, with the right amount of encouragement," Quistis answered in a deceivingly neutral tone of voice, a little smile playing on her lips as she handed him an updated set of blueprints, fresh off the press. "At least this is something we can hand over to Estharian technicians without having to feel embarrassed."

Skimming through the papers, he gave a curt hum of approval, before he glanced past Quistis. "Sir," he greeted succinctly when Cid joined them with a broad smile.

"Squall," came the too cheerful reply, the middle-aged man landing a friendly pat on his shoulder. "It's been too long, hasn't it? Though I suppose it can't be helped. Missions wait for no man, isn't that right?" he spoke amicably, with the air of someone who knew all about mercenary life.

Annoyed but curbing his urge to express said annoyance at the stern look Quistis sent his way, he offered an acknowledging nod instead, remembering the right amount of respect he was supposed to muster at such an occasion.

"I've read the reports and I must say, you handled your latest mission expertly," the unaware headmaster continued jovially. "President Loire informed me that work at the refinery has already resumed, now that the oilboyle nesting grounds are a thing of the past."

"If anything, it's good timing," Quistis added thoughtfully, taking the blueprints back from the brunet's idle hands and storing them away neatly in a manila folder. "It's a good reminder that even Esthar needs Garden assistance."

"Ah yes. There's that too," Cid commented with an agreeing nod. Chuckling fondly, he continued, "They won't know what hit 'em, consenting to you as the meeting's moderator."

With a soft shake of the head, Quistis admonished the older man, "You know I have to remain impartial. I'm just laying out the facts and files. For this to work, all parties need to get their say." Pausing to add weight to her words, she fixed the headmaster with a level gaze. "And you know the things _you_ have to say. We need your full back-up on this one," the blonde continued, firmly dissuading any tendency of the older man to leave the talking to others.

"Yes yes, don't you worry," Cid reassured with a dismissing gesture. "I'm sure things will go just fine."

Clearly remembering how the headmaster had shirked his responsibilities and shoved the Garden broadcast mic into his hands, randomly and non-democratically instating him as Commander in the process, Squall couldn't help but raise a dark eyebrow and share a pointed look with his former instructor.

Releasing a soft sigh, Quistis shook her head almost indiscernibly. They both knew they needed the man's seniority and connections, no politician willing to listen to someone their age without it, regardless of their experience and expertise.

Glancing down at her watch, the blonde remarked pensively, "We'll have to leave any minute now." As her gaze traveled back to meet Squall's, the brunet braced himself for the well-meant "advice" he knew was coming. The look that greeted him was the one cadets were loath to find themselves the target of. Their commander formed no exception to the rule.

"I'll start off with the introductions, Quistis began evenly, clearly hinting at the part of the meeting he was least excited about. "I know certain... reactions are unavoidable, but if you could please try not to—"

A loud knock started everyone in the room from their conversations, the double doors swinging open wide and revealing a friendly, smiling hostess. "All the other dignitaries have already taken their seats and are awaiting your arrival. Please allow us to escort you to the conference room," she announced pleasantly upon entering, extending an arm towards the doorway in invitation. Outside, two palace guards stood at attention. Thanking Hyne for the welcome interruption, Squall quickly made for the hallway, not bothering to turn around and discover Quistis's expression.

Behind him he could hear Cid comment lightheartedly on "the impatience of youth," Quistis only sighing exasperatedly in reply. Not paying any notice, he stepped outside and gave the two guards assigned to their party an acknowledging nod as he walked past them. Focusing on his footsteps echoing along the marble floor, he tried to calm his mind in preparation of several hours of frustration and boredom. Meetings like these always tended to drag on, unimportant details and seemingly endless squabbling taking up unnecessary amounts of time, as most politicians were only ever willing to serve their own causes.

Calling down and holding the elevator, he waited for Quistis and the headmasters to catch up, but the first to round the corner was the hostess. Looking somewhat flustered yet still smiling broadly, the young woman hurried toward him as elegantly as she could manage in a pencil skirt and high heels. "Sir, please allow me to do that," she requested, her voice a tad embarrassed as she stepped into the elevator and placed a staying hand against metal doors. Realizing he'd only confuse her further if he maintained behavior unbefitting of some high official, Squall simply let his arm fall down and walked inside to lean against the far mirrored wall of the elevator. Already he was more than fed up with all the unnecessary pretenses.

Supplying a brief word of greeting he had failed to offer earlier as the headmasters of Trabia and Galbadia Garden filed into the elevator, he immediately fell silent again during their ascent to the top floor. Next to him Quistis was nudging her spectacles into place and seemed to be checking the stack of folders in her arms for the umpteenth time. Even Cid had assumed an appropriately serious demeanor.

As the elevator came to a stop, a collective moment of minds steeling themselves was tangible in the air before the party of Garden representatives walked out into the lavish hallway. A multitude of muted voices buzzed loudly from behind the large set of doors at the end of it. This was it. Squall could only hope that Quistis would manage to run a tight ship and keep time loss to a minimum.

At the nudge of a sharp elbow in his side he glanced sideways to see said blonde regard him seriously, her lips mouthing the words "no glaring" slowly and articulately. Not leaving him any time to respond or protest, she walked ahead with a determined stride and pushed open one of the doors, the buzzing of voices coming to an abrupt end as she disappeared inside.

Not about to linger in the hallway by himself, he followed after her and made a conscious effort to smoothen out his features into a suitably neutral expression. The many eyes gravitating towards him as he walked into the suffocatingly silent conference room didn't help make the feat any easier. Spotting a sign reading "Squall Leonhart," placed in front of one of the five remaining free chairs, he immediately realized why he already was the center of attention.

An inward groan the only reaction he could permit himself under such intense scrutiny, he walked to his seat with confident strides, returning the curt nods he received in greeting from the heads of state as he traversed the room. He'd already dealt with them in the past and earned their respect. The ones possibly posing a problem were currently boring their eyes into him, clearly disbelieving and waiting for the moment he'd actually sit himself down in the commander's chair. The moment he did, the heavy silence broke like glass falling to shards, whispered comments instantly filling the air.

More than used to his appearance not living up to the larger-than-life expectations that were associated with his name, Squall easily brushed off the incredulous stares sent his way by the Estharian Secretaries of Defense and Foreign Affairs. To their right, a composed and unaffected Loire was lending a sympathetic ear to the Secretary of Economy, the round-faced man obviously surprised and in need of reassuring.

Harder to ignore were the two rather large men seated at the end of the u-shaped table, right next to the slightly elevated platform where Quistis was going to make her presentation. Burly postures leaned forward to better study the anomaly that just walked into their midst, their gazes were invariably contemptuous whenever they looked up from their outraged exchange. Squall immediately recognized them from the files he had looked through that morning. Borecco, the Estharian Chief of Police, and Reardon, the General of the Estharian Army. It wasn't all that difficult to guess at the reason for such instantaneous hatred. His general lack of brawn and masculinity usually inspired such a reaction in men who considered fighting and combat their trade. For someone like him to be a commander was considered a personal insult.

Able to overhear such words as "absurd" and "ridiculous," the two men unsubtly made sure he knew exactly what they thought of him. Having trouble keeping his expression in check, Squall felt his anger flare dangerously on the inside, but refused to let them gain any leverage over him by expressing any shape or form of emotion. It was no different from the times he had fought off muscle heads as a cadet, often mistaken for an easy target. It was nothing. Just like those assholes, they'd learn to think differently soon. All in good time. Anger simmering down to a cold boil at the back of his mind, he directed his attention away from the infuriating display, his gaze landing on the somewhat fidgety man sitting directly in front of him.

Lantos Farkas, the new Mayor of Fisherman Horizon, though less xenophobic than his predecessor still seemed highly uncomfortable in the presence of some of the world's most important dignitaries. Aware that he had Squall's attention, he seemed to attempt to sink away in his chair. Indifferent towards the man's discomfort, steely gray-blue eyes moved on to travel past the others present, filing away faces under their correct names and titles.

Stopping at a pair of narrowed eyes, Squall knew he was looking at trouble. Unremarkable of build and appearance, Darman Zautra wouldn't stand out much if it wasn't for that calculating gaze, something about the man making it impossible to ignore him. Knowing full well that of those present the Chief Executive of the SCTA would have the least to gain from their proposition that day, the fact that the man was now staring at him so coldly didn't bode well.

"Good morning. I am Quistis Trepe, Head Instructor of Balamb Garden and Headmistress in training. In the capacity of today's moderator, I hereby call this meeting into session." Clear and to the point, the blonde's voice cut right through all the commotion, demanding everyone's undivided attention. All eyes traveling to the presentation area at the open end of the meeting table, Squall couldn't help but feel grateful for the temporary reprieve and turned to watch his friend as well.

Standing confident in front of a large presentation screen, clipboard and laser pointer in hand, Quistis was the picture of competence. The sight reminded him of how she thrived when confronted with an audience, duty or any challenge for that matter, the young woman having come a long way since the war. She was far better suited to a position of authority than he would ever be or ever had been, the mere thought of having to speak later during the meeting enough to make him uncomfortable. Addressing his troops on the battle field was entirely different to speaking in front of a room full of self-conceited officials.

"The summon for this gathering has been issued by Garden, but was only realized thanks to the hospitality of President Loire and the Estharian government. For this we extend our sincerest gratitude," she stated formally once all conversation had finally died down. "Representing Garden are Headmaster Kramer from Balamb Garden, Headmistress Blackwood from Trabia Garden, Headmaster Tavares from Galbadia Garden, and SeeD Commander Leon—"

A derisive snort interrupted Quistis' introductions at the mentioning of the brunet's name, the sound loud enough to be heard by all. Only taken aback for the duration of a second, the blonde immediately got back on track after sending General Reardon a withering look for resorting to such tasteless tactics. "—and SeeD Commander Leonhart," she continued firmly, emphasizing the name to clearly convey the issue was not up for discussion.

"You really expect us to believe that _this_ is the SeeD Commander?" Zautra asked in a composed manner, stating each word unflinchingly as he leaned back in his chair and eyed Quistis levelly.

Not having expected disturbances from that corner of the table, nor such an uncouth questioning of Squall's identity, the young woman stood temporarily stunned as the comment caused the conference room to be plunged back into disorder. At the other end of the table Borecco and Reardon seemed quite entertained by the Chief Executive's audacity, leaning back in their chairs as well to await Quistis' response with mock attention.

Before Squall could even begin to feel properly annoyed at such disrespect, the scraping of a chair being pushed back caught his attention. Having a rather accurate suspicion at what would follow, he watched the scene unfold, barely restraining the urge to bring his hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose in frustration.

At the head of the table Loire came to a stand, his features deceivingly composed. "Gentlemen," he began seriously, his voice loud enough to rise above the noise. "I can assure you that the man in your presence today is indeed Commander Leonhart. Now as I am certain you are aware of his accomplishments, it would only be prudent to show the proper amount of respect." The entire room fell silent at those words, uncertain gazes traveling back and forth between himself and the president.

Schooling his expression, Squall tried to curb the annoyance he felt at having someone else fight his battle for him. Especially Loire, no matter how irrational the sentiment was. Years of having fended for himself had left him with a deeply ingrained sense of independence and with no desire whatsoever to receive any help from his absentee father. Not that any of them knew. Now _that_ would be a riot.

None the wiser to Squall's displeasure, Loire hadn't run out of steam just yet and continued firmly, "Not only that, but as you know, a large amount of the security measures taken for today's meeting were set up to protect the man's identity. There would be no benefit to Garden in employing a decoy for the duration of this meeting, only instead an added risk at exposing their commander. Obviously he is here not only to partake in the meeting but also to show Garden's trust and goodwill towards all participants." Pausing to let his gaze travel over all those present, a cautioning edge to usually friendly eyes, he concluded, "Let us all aim to repay such courtesy."

"Thank you President Loire," Quistis began immediately after the longhaired president had finally sat himself down again, not permitting anybody else to take the word. "Now if you will please allow me to continue," she spoke sternly, cerulean eyes regarding each troublemaker levelly, "then I would like to lay out the agenda for this gathering."

Confident that finally everyone's attention was back where it was supposed to be, the blonde immediately cut to the chase, her voice reined in to a professional tone once more. "First of all I will explain the purpose of this meeting and run through the details of the plans Garden wishes to bring into motion. After a short break, there will be opportunity to address any concerns or questions you may have." Taking a small remote control in hand, Quistis pointed it at the large presentation screen and brought a detailed 3D model of a state of the art building into view. As the image in the background slowly rotated to reveal the planned design from all angles, she announced without hesitating, "The topic we wish to bring up is the possible expansion of Garden to include a branch in Esthar." Pausing briefly for impact, she continued, "What you see here is Esthar Garden."

Stunned silence rang throughout the room, but the moment only lasted for a few seconds, the Estharian representatives effectively in an uproar once their brains had caught up on the implications of what had just been said. Borecco and Reardon erupted into an outraged litany at the same time, the General's hands slamming onto the table's surface as the older one of the two shot up from his chair in his temper. Zautra merely watched the revolving model with narrowing eyes, silently seething. Nobody seemed to be able to keep their opinions to themselves.

Watching the display with a growing frown, Squall let go of any hope the meeting would be over anytime soon. As he settled into his chair as comfortably as possible, he resigned himself to a _long_ morning.

* * *

**[The Tiamat SCTA, Wednesday, 15th of October, 2:06 pm]**

The double doors of the entrance to the Tiamat SCTA slid apart soundlessly as Seifer stepped inside. The place looked like usual, the large foyer mostly empty. On both sides of the room chairs and tables were placed in small groups, serving both as waiting areas and places where students and employees could relax or eat lunch. Walking down the polished wooden floor leading to the tall semicircular reception desk, Seifer's eyes quickly traveled to the man seated behind the desk.

"Madden," he said, drawing the man's attention immediately.

"Almasy," the receptionist replied and nodded in greeting. "Good to have you back."

Returning the nod, Seifer placed an arm on the glass surface of the desk and leaned in. "Listen, is Doreen in?"

"Yup, she's in her office right now I believe."

"Thanks," Seifer said as he pushed away from the desk and came to a proper stand once more. Sending the other man a slight nod, he turned to head down the hallway that veered off to the right of the reception desk. Picking up his stride, he quickly made it to the fourth door on the left and entered the small office. Doreen sat at her usual desk, the surface more cluttered than normal. Large piles of papers, most likely some of those god-forsaken forms she made everyone fill in regularly, were placed rather chaotically on the too small surface.

"Mrs. Callanach," he spoke fondly, as he put on his most charming smile and walked over to where she was sitting. He wanted to stay on friendly terms with the admins, already used to the perks it gained him.

Smiling broadly, Doreen looked up from the mass of forms she had been organizing. "Seifer," she said in greeting, her voice warm and friendly. "We weren't expecting you back for a while yet."

"I know," Seifer said, his smile growing. "Things went a lot quicker than expected." He hadn't thought he'd be back for another two weeks, but through hard labor and little sleep he had managed to cut down his time away from Esthar. He wasn't fond of his trips out, much more content to be at home working in the workshop and at the SCTA, but he still went out whenever Arc asked him to. It was the least he could do after all the man had done for him.

Raising the pile of papers cradled in her hands, the middle-aged woman arranged them neatly on the surface of her desk. "That's good to hear, dear," she commented in a pleasant tone of voice.

Curbing his annoyance at the overly affectionate term, Seifer's smile never wavered. He wanted to stay in her good books as he was always low on cash and she had helped him in the past by arranging pay advances. If he had to suffer the infrequent use of the dreaded term, then he'd do just that. The added bonus of her filling out his forms as well made him even more determined to stay on her good side.

"So when can we expect you to return?" she asked, putting down the neat stack of forms.

"As soon as possible," Seifer replied, needing no time to ponder her question.

Smile faltering ever so slightly, Doreen looked down at the calendar on her desk for a brief moment. "I'm afraid it's too late to cancel Healey's lesson tomorrow. How about Monday? Does that work for you?"

Nodding at the answer he had already anticipated, he let his smile blend into a smirk. "Of course. Tell the kiddies what to expect." He couldn't wait to torture their sorry asses.

Laughing softly, Doreen's green eyes sparkled in amusement. "Don't worry. I'm sure the rumors will spread in no time."

Seifer's smirk grew smug as he nodded in agreement. Deciding to indulge the woman in an ounce of small talk, he relaxed his smirk back into his best smile. "How are the kids?"

Leaning forward in her seat, obviously enjoying the ex-knight's company, Doreen seemed delighted at the question. "Aidan is growing more and more impatient to start at the SCTA by the day. You know what it's like to be a boy at that age. Kacey just brought home her first boyfriend the other day... It gets harder and harder to keep up with them."

"I'm sure," Seifer commented with an easy smile. "Has Aidan decided which weapon he'll be taking up?" Just a little more small talk and he knew she'd be happy to fill out those horrible forms for him for another term.

"Let's hope it's not the gunblade, huh? I hear their instructor is rather ruthless," she said as she eyed him with a teasing glint in her eyes.

"Well, at least they got that part right," he joked back with a smirk. "Tell him he can come see me for a taster if he wants."

Eyes glazing over in thought, the woman seemed to ponder his offer for a second. "I'll be sure to tell him that."

Giving the woman one last smile, Seifer straightened out of his relaxed position. "I'll be off then," he said as he gave her a mock salute. Leaving her office, he walked back down the dim hallway until he was back in the brightly lit foyer. Walking past the reception, Madden called out to him from his position behind the desk. "Hey, Almasy."

Turning around to regard the man, Seifer walked up to the desk. "Yeah?"

"I forgot. I've got a new key for you for the training rooms. We need your old one back," Madden said as he began looking through a drawer, quickly locating the key.

Fishing out his keys from his back pocket, Seifer placed both of his elbows to rest on top of the tall desk. "How come?" he asked as his eyes narrowed slightly in thought.

"We had a break in whilst you were away," was the simple reply, a slight frown finding its way onto Madden's brow as he remembered the incident.

Fighting the immediate worry that surfaced at the back of his mind, Seifer's eyes narrowed further. "The gunblades?" he asked in growing concern, just about managing to keep his voice even.

"Safe. It was the nunchaku room that was targeted," the other man replied without looking up from the form he was filling in to register the exchange of keys.

Even though he felt relief at the words, Seifer still couldn't quell the unease that filled him and tapped his hand clutching the key ring against the counter in impatience. Forcing himself to ignore his unfounded worry, he brought his focus back to his key ring and removed the universal key to the training rooms. "Was much taken?" he asked in curiosity as he inserted the key Madden had placed for him on the glass counter.

"No. Only the most expensive models," the man replied, eyes returning to Seifer.

"Hn," Seifer said and nodded, his apprehension growing once more. "I'll see you tomorrow, Madden," he added in parting as he gave the other man a slight nod and pushed away from the desk.

"See you, Almasy," the man replied as he watched Seifer turn around and head down the hallway that led in the opposite direction of the administration office.

Even though he knew he had nothing to worry about, Seifer also realized he wouldn't feel at ease before he laid his eyes on Hyperion. Quickly making it down to the gunblade training room, he slid the brand new key into the lock and opened the door. Instantly his eyes were on black metal at the other side of the room, the light spilling in through the overhead windows just enough for him to make out the familiar shape. Sighing, he switched on the light and entered the room properly. Calmly, he made his way over to the glass cabinet that took up most of the far wall. Stopping to study the blade in its mounted position inside the cabinet, placed in-between similar models, Seifer kept his hands idle by his side.

It had been almost half a year since he'd decided to leave Hyperion there. The blade was still his, but he had figured the security was better at the SCTA than at his apartment. And he rarely used her anymore. Just like he never used the blade hanging next to her; the first gunblade he'd ever forged. Besides, rather than letting the gunblades collect dust, he figured the brats could use the experience of practising with them, the models being slightly different to the rest of the blades in the SCTA's collection. It hadn't been a hard decision, really, but at Madden's earlier words he'd been paralyzed with worry over losing Hyperion. Getting his keys out of his back pocket to open the cabinet, he didn't hear the muted steps of someone else entering the room.

"Sir?" an adolescent voice called from behind him, the word ringing out nervously.

Quite familiar with all of his students' voices, Seifer dropped his hand and turned around with a lopsided smirk. Upon seeing the slightly nervous student eyeing him with bright blue eyes, Seifer couldn't stop himself from toying with the boy. Especially not since the boy was standing way too hunched over to demand proper respect, something Seifer felt was his personal duty to correct. He wouldn't allow any of his students to leave the SCTA a weakling or without the backbone befitting a fighter.

"Straighten up Mack," he demanded harshly, the boy immediately standing at attention at his command. "Show me your blade."

Walking further into the room, the boy held out his blade in the way Seifer had taught him. Seifer didn't move to take it out of the boy's hold as expected. Instead, he watched in silence for long moments until the tip began to swerve slightly. Eyes narrowing at the sight, Seifer lifted his gaze to regard the young student.

"Did you do those exercises I showed you?" he asked, not impressed in the slightest by the lack of strength the boy was displaying.

"Yes, Sir," the boy let out, his voice nearly breaking on the words.

"Then why the hell can't you hold your blade straight?" Seifer demanded sternly, keeping the boy the object of his firm gaze.

Not knowing how to answer, the boy's eyes fell to the floor in shame, his arm starting to tremble at the continued strain caused by the heavy weight of the blade.

Watching as the boy slowly lowered the blade to hang at his side, the tip resting against the floor, Seifer knew he still had his work cut out for him. Not only did the kid lack strength, but also discipline. He'd been sure Mack had been improving before he'd left for his trip, but obviously the boy hadn't kept up the exercises as promised.

"Did I tell you to relax?" Seifer questioned grimly, increasingly unimpressed at his pupil.

"No, Sir!" the boy said loudly in reply as he forced his hand and arm into its previous position despite his protesting muscles.

Seifer's eyes eased up slightly as he noticed the determination that entered Mack's eyes and demeanor. Regardless of Healey's useless classes, more often causing setbacks in the students than not, Seifer was determined he'd make a strong man out of Mack and the rest of the useless bunch. It'd be hard, but he'd make it work. He wasn't going to have a bunch of pussies parading around saying he'd been their teacher.

"Now tell me why the hell you can't hold your blade straight," he demanded once more. He wanted the boy to feel guilty over having let his training slip.

"I... I don't know, Sir," the boy said, his features plainly showing his frustration at having no better answer for his instructor.

Knowing Mack had never been one to lie, Seifer studied the young boy more intently. Maybe he had judged him too harshly. Maybe the boy really had been doing the exercises but needed an even more thorough workout or a change in routine.

"Hmmm," Seifer let out and tilted his head back slightly as he continued his scrutiny. He needed to study Mack whilst the boy performed the exercises and then work out ways for him to improve. "Stay after the lesson on Monday. Can't have you walking around with sissy arms like that. You need to beef 'em up." Knowing the teenager's arms would be close to giving in and had to hurt like hell, he finally decided to cut the boy some slack. "At ease."

Blade immediately moving to hang at his side, Mack tried hard to hide his relief at no longer having to hold out his blade. He knew displaying any kind of weakness in front of his instructor only caused the man to drive him harder. "Yes, sir," he said and nodded, feeling slightly reassured when the man didn't order him to bring the weapon back out. He knew Seifer only meant him and the others the best. Since Seifer had started teaching them, none of the other weapon specialization students had been able to keep up with them any more. Even though the man drove them hard, Mack knew it was worth it. He knew they would be some of the most sought after graduates to leave the SCTA. And thus, it was always bothersome when Seifer went away on his trips. Hopeful, Mack couldn't curb his question. "You're back, Sir?"

Chuckling, Seifer shook his head in disbelief. "You can be a fucking idiot you know that, Mack? Didn't I just tell you to stay after the lesson on Monday?"

Nodding, Mack didn't know why he was being laughed at, his forehead scrunching up in thought.

"Well, what does that imply?" the blond instructor questioned with an amused smirk.

Realizing his mistake, Mack's frown deepened even though he was relieved at the news. "That you'll be teaching us again."

"That's right. Now go tell all the other fuckheads that their holiday is over. From Monday it's back to working until you drop dead from exhaustion," Seifer said as he kept his arms crossed in front of him, still watching the boy intently.

Unable to suppress a small smile of excitement at having Seifer back, Mack didn't think to restrain his words. He couldn't wait to tell the others. "Yes, Sir. Good to have you back, Sir."

Amused at the young boy's eager comment, Seifer cocked his head backwards before sending Mack on his way. "Now get out of here and work out those wimp ass muscles of yours."

"Yes, Sir," Mack let out firmly and nodded. Giving Seifer a slight smile, he turned around and left the room.

Letting his smirk relax into a smile as the boy left his view, Seifer couldn't conceal his own happiness at being back.

* * *

**[Arc Balios' Weapon Shop, Wednesday, 15th of October, 4:56 pm]**

Driving down an old side road in Esthar, Seifer pulled in and killed the engine of his pick up truck. The road was completely empty, the industrial part of the Tiamat District in Esthar rundown and practically desolate. There were no endlessly tall buildings in that part of town, instead large and mainly abandoned warehouses lined the roads. Stepping out of his car, the ex-knight's boots landed on sand, the grains blown in from where the city's border kept the advancing desert at bay less than a mile away. On his left, an old sign with capital letters spelling out the word 'weapons' hung at an odd angle, a couple of the bolts having given in under the strain of time. The rest of the facade didn't help matters much, the large windows slightly cracked and almost impossible to see through due to the sand and grit that had collected over the years. From looks alone, no one would be able to tell that the building housed a highly renowned weaponsmith.

The old bell stirred to life when he pushed open the door to the shop, but no one came to the desk to service the potential customer. Seifer could only image Arc out back, far too absorbed in his work to even take notice. A small smile came to his lips. He'd missed the man. He'd missed the place. When he'd first arrived in Esthar Arc's place had been his home for just under a year and he'd liked it there. Arc had been the one to finally give him a break when no one else had been willing to.

Eyes skimming the cluttered mess of the front room, Seifer walked along the narrow path leading out back. All around him weapons were haphazardly stacked against each other, taking up almost all of the floor space and stacked up high on shelves covering the walls. Most of the weapons were covered in dust and cobwebs, old models Arc had never parted with or models the man had bought for the purpose of studying their inner workings. No one ever came to buy any of those; not that Arc would have ever sold them. Instead, the buyers always came to commission state of the art weapons, and they always wanted them personalized to hell and back. That was one thing Seifer had learned from his time there, working as Arc's apprentice. Men of battle were just as vain as the rest of them. Not that Seifer held any grand illusions that he was above such vanity. His latest gunblade, Kronos, was riddled with symbolism and he had used nothing but the best materials and everything he'd learned from Arc to place the blade in a class of its own.

Making his way into the back, Seifer's eyes quickly landed on the old man hunched over one of the work tables. Smiling, he walked closer to observe the smith at work. Listening to Arc's mumbled running commentary, Seifer couldn't curb his amusement at the man's continued lack of awareness of his presence. Shaking his head softly, he expertly anticipated which tool Arc would need next and placed it in the man's unsuspecting hand. Entirely too distracted, the old man didn't notice the offered tool for long moments until his dark blue eyes finally landed on the heavy weight.

Old eyes crinkling at the corners in delight, the man turned his head to regard the young blond. "Back, I see." A heavy hand impacted against Seifer's back as the old man gave him a pat.

"Yup, old man," the blond spoke warmly, as he inspected the schematics of the blaster edge Arc was working on. After a minute or two of going over the work in progress, he grinned in mischievous triumph. "Not bad," he commented as he adjusted a couple of the calculations on the blueprint.

Huffing, Arc studied the corrections, one of his bushy eyebrows rising in surprise. "Not bad indeed, son," he said, eyeing Seifer levelly. "We'll make a good weaponsmith out of you yet."

Inwardly rolling his eyes at the man's reply, Seifer headed back in the direction of the entrance. "I've got the stuff out in my pick up," he informed, just about to leave the room.

"Surely you have time for a quick drink first?" Arc questioned, effectively stopping Seifer in his tracks.

Smirking, Seifer returned to the older man's side. "What've you got for me today then?" he asked. An afternoon drink had become a common occurrence between them.

Chuckling warmly, Arc walked over to open an old wooden cupboard and fished out a dusty bottle of liquor from the back. "Did you get the Orihalcon?"

Seifer nodded and Arc's smile grew. "There's a good boy," he said, unscrewing the cap on the bottle of alcohol before taking a sniff of the strong contents.

Never liking to be called a boy, Seifer's eyes narrowed. He knew Arc meant nothing bad by using the word and that the man practically viewed him as a son, but he could never erase the memories the name brought with it, the word a favorite one of his deceased mistress.

"Aaah, smell this," Arc said, walking closer whilst holding out the bottle for Seifer to smell. Bringing the bottle to his nose, Seifer almost had to cough at the thick scent of strong alcohol that settled at the back of his throat. Arc had always had a weakness for the strong stuff and the bottle held beneath Seifer's nose was definitely some of the stronger stuff indeed. Chuckling at the older man's antics, he walked over to where Arc was already getting out two shot glasses.

A couple of shots later, the old man coughed warmly as he put his hand to Seifer's arm. "Good to have you back, son." Dark blue eyes then glazed over as the man became lost to thought, as if he was remembering something.

Used the such an occurrence, Seifer straightened up. "You're just glad to have your slave laborer back, old man," he said, his green eyes betraying his amusement.

Eyeing his apprentice fondly, Arc smirked. "Indeed. Now get back to work," he ordered good-naturedly as he walked back over to the blaster edge he'd been hovering over earlier.

Shaking his head once again, Seifer went outside to finally get started on the task of unloading the goods he'd brought with him, resigning himself to the several trips it would take from his pick up to the back of the shop to get all of the heavier stuff moved.

* * *

**[Rinoa Heartilly and Squall Leonhart's apartment, Layon Tower, Thursday, 16th of October, ****12:29 am****]**

Slumped back and staring at the black screen of a too large TV, Squall's back was starting to complain. The white designer couch wasn't nearly as comfortable as it should be, considering the effort it had taken to get the monstrous piece of furniture all the way up to the top floor. Huddled up next to him and lost to sleep, Angelo didn't seem all that bothered, her head perched on his thighs comfortably. He vaguely remembered Rinoa telling him not to let Angelo on the couch, but he couldn't care less about what constituted proper pet regulations. He had half a suspicion the dog only saw him as a makeshift pillow or a walking food dispenser anyway.

Propped up awkwardly against the low back of the couch, he had been sitting in the same place for over an hour. The late night news hadn't been able to distract him much and any other form of entertainment on at that hour didn't quite agree with his tastes. So he'd turned the thing off some time ago, which had given his thoughts free rein to run in circles. He had gone over his day several times, but no matter how he looked at it, there had been no avoiding the outcome. He had missed Rinoa's appointment with Odine. Not just run late, but entirely _missed_ it and there hadn't been a damned thing he could've done about it. At the meeting things had gotten out of hand. An initially short recess had ended up lasting well into the afternoon. By the time the meeting had finally come to an end, it had already been too late and an angry message had been waiting for him on his phone.

Skipping the banquet that had been delayed to take place in the evening had been pointless by then. He already knew he'd only come home to an empty apartment, Rinoa's mood instantly reverted to the silent anger of the days previous. Not wanting to piss off Quistis in addition to his sorceress, he had ended up staying for the banquet in spite of his urge to skewer the majority of those present with his gunblade. Not that staying had done any good. Quistis was delusional if she thought him sitting through dinner with the likes of Reardon or Zautra had helped their cause any. Under the strained atmosphere and hateful glances cast his way, the only thing he had gained from the experience had been added stress.

Men like them hardly ever reconsidered their first impressions of him. They just couldn't get over how different he was from the worthy leader and fighter they had imagined. Even if his face had been known all over the planet along with his name, it wouldn't have made a difference. The shocked expressions of incredulity and ridicule might've been avoided, but in no way did that outweigh all of the advantages that came with remaining anonymous.

When Cid and Quistis had first suggested the approach of keeping his identity concealed, he had jumped at the chance. Deaf to their concerns for his safety and indifferent toward their plan of turning him into some sort of enigma as a way of strengthening Garden's image, he instead found the idea of remaining out of the limelight and hidden from the public's eye much more persuasive. As long as he could continue to go on covert missions and keep his private life just that, he didn't care about having his name used as some PR tool or the ensuing disappointment in those who learned of his true identity. Though, thinking back to the meeting, to call it disappointment would be an understatement.

Letting go of a deep sigh and dropping his head backwards against the couch, he was startled from his train of thought at the slight buzz vibrating against his thigh. Digging his cell phone out from his pocket, he flipped it open and saw he had received a message from Rinoa. He hadn't expected to hear from her after her last message, it having succeeded well enough in conveying her frustration with him. Though she had told him not to, he'd still decided to wait up for her. Maybe she had sensed he was still awake. Opening the text, he stared at the words for long seconds, before his mind backtracked and took in its possible meaning.

_- Message from Rinoa / 12:36 am / I'm not feeling good. Come pick me up. -  
_

What did she mean by that? Had she become unwell? And _where_ did she want him to pick her up? He didn't have the slightest idea where she was, only that she had gone out and didn't intend on coming home until late. Feeling worry begin to set in, he immediately quelled the emotion as he typed a response.

_- Message to Rinoa / 12:38 am / Where are you? - _

Pressing "send," he pushed aside a disgruntled Angelo and got up from the couch to get his keys, ready to leave the instant he got a reply. But none came. Unease growing as the seconds ticked away and merged into long minutes, Squall kept glancing at his cell phone as he paced the hallway. There was hardly any point in aimlessly driving around the city, it's expanses too vast to start a random search. And if something serious had happened, the message wouldn't have been so vague. She had probably just gotten unwell at a restaurant. Or had a few drinks too many.

He knew for a fact she often exceeded her tolerance for alcohol when out with friends, making no secret of her nights out. He'd overheard her stumbling up the stairs at ungodly hours more than just a few times. He'd helped her out of a cab, even cleaned up her mess once or twice. And those were times he'd been home to witness it. He was afraid to consider how much of a habit it had become. Indeed, for her to be stuck at a bar somewhere without a ride home wasn't all that improbable.

_But then why hasn't she replied yet?_ a nagging voice questioned at the back of his mind, his instincts as a knight guiding him in an entirely different direction. He hadn't been able to feel her ever since he had been late for her appointment with Odine and had thus chalked it up to her anger. Now, he wasn't so sure anymore. He couldn't shake the feeling that something had gone wrong, his thoughts easily veering from what was most likely to what was worst. The fact that she'd been to Odine's just that afternoon seemed like too much of a coincidence. They hadn't moved to Esthar on a whim. It had been a crucial decision, with Rinoa's condition deteriorating further every day. It had started innocently. Sometimes she had sleep walked or burst out in an unprovoked fit of anger. Some days she had just stayed indoors and hardly responded to anyone. It hadn't taken long for her strange behavior to escalate, her slipping grasp on her sorceress powers more dangerous than anyone had initially thought. She had even learned to purposefully cloud their bond, whenever she didn't want to be found by her knight, as she had been doing since that afternoon.

He could still clearly remember the paralyzing panic he'd felt when she had disappeared for three days. The fourth day she had simply wandered back through the front gates of Balamb Garden, unharmed and claiming she couldn't remember where she'd been. But the golden gleam to brown eyes hadn't gone unnoticed with him. That had been the first incident in a series of many, the last being the reason he'd finally managed to persuade his scared sorceress to relocate to Esthar, together. Half a year and many prototypes of magic inhibitors later and she was almost back to her old self. Almost.

And now this. What if her condition had taken a sudden turn for the worse? The thought wouldn't leave his head the moment it took root. What if Rinoa was out there, suffering from a relapse and all by herself? And if she wasn't alone, then it wouldn't be safe for whoever was with her. Either way, he had to find her. Flipping open his cell to type in another message, he could no longer suppress his concern.

_- Message to Rinoa / 12:45 am / You have to tell me where you are. Are you alright? Do I need to bring the pills? - _

He didn't wait around for an answer, as he ran upstairs to retrieve the medication Odine had prescribed her. Dashing into the main bathroom, he got her pills as quickly as possible and placed them in one of Rinoa's purses. Eyes traveling to the necklaces and bangles laid out on the vanity table, the items crafted specifically to inhibit magic, renewed worry surged through him as he noticed the simple set of twin bracelets he knew Rinoa had been wearing that morning.

That was the last straw, his composure snapping at the sight. The fact he still hadn't received an answer only added to his alarm. Deciding he'd just go wherever his gut feeling took him, he snatched the inhibitors along with the purse he had filled with her pills and rushed back downstairs and out of the apartment. Making it to his car in no time, Squall soon realized he had absolutely no way of starting his search however desperately he wanted to. Remaining idle in the driver's seat, his worry grew as the seconds ticked by. When his phone began vibrating, indicating he had just received a new message, he fumbled to flip it open in his haste.

_- Message from Rinoa / 12:53 am / I'm at some club. Somewhere in the Tiamat District. Hurry. -_


	3. Improbable Odds

**~ Chapter Three - Improbable Odds ~**

* * *

**[Seifer Almasy's Apartment, ****Zayin House, ****Thursday, ****16th of October, 12****:52 am]**

Back in his shower after a long evening of working with Arc, Seifer was getting rid of the smell of the workshop. Already thinking ahead to what he'd be doing back in bed with Calder just a few hours later, he thoroughly scrubbed down his skin. While a few men probably liked the scents of oil and metal, he knew Calder wasn't one of them.

Slicking his hair back into its usual style, he looked at himself in the mirror. His old choker was missing, the thing lost at some point during the war. Relieved he'd been able to keep in shape whilst on the road, he eyed the black tattoo of a cross sword that lined his right upper arm. It was one of the many marks on his body that still reminded him of the time before he'd come to Esthar, but at least that one had been of his own choosing.

Stopping his mind from venturing further along the downwards slope it was heading on, Seifer put on some aftershave and walked back into the bedroom. Grabbing a pair of black boxer briefs, he got dressed and put on some black pants and a matching shirt. Leaving the top buttons of the shirt undone, he ran a hand through his hair, the habit impossible to break.

Hair slightly mussed, he grabbed his cell phone from on top of his dresser and eyed the time before cursing under his breath. It was already five past one. He was going to be late. He didn't want to drive to Pulse and the walk usually took twenty minutes on its own. Add another five or so minutes to buy the Avalanche and make it to the Nexus and he knew he was screwed. Calder would not be in an accommodating mood after having waited around that long. Or maybe he would, considering the extra time it gave the man to drink. Sliding his phone open, Seifer tried reaching the guy, but was met with the man's voice mail. Leaving a message that said he'd be late, Seifer hurried out the door.

Seventeen minutes later he was waiting in line outside Pulse where he usually bought his Avalanche. Shivering, he couldn't wait to get inside, warm up a bit, and get the purchase over and done with. He'd forgotten how cold it was during autumn in Esthar, and the warm sun that had been out during the afternoon had not helped his memory one bit.

Finally making his way into the night club, Seifer ran a hand through his newly cut blond locks once more. He had been back in Esthar for less than a day, but impatience filled him as he scoured the crowd. As a teenager he had been too distracted to consider sex, the harsh guidelines at Garden not helping matters much. The few sexual experiences he'd ended up having hadn't left him wanting more and as such he'd forgotten about the whole ordeal until well after the war, more concerned about excelling and being the absolute best during his time as a cadet. Upon his reacquaintance with sex and coming to terms with his own sexuality, it had become somewhat of an addiction, however.

When he was at home in Esthar, not many nights went by where he was alone in bed. Usually he'd fuck Calder until neither of them could stand, but they weren't exclusive and it wasn't unheard of that they went out on the prowl together. That and he wouldn't say no to a quick fuck or blow job if someone came on to him. Life was just too short not to take advantage of such things. His trips out of Esthar were the exception, and thus he was way beyond his limit that night, three weeks of self imposed celibacy proving almost unbearable.

Going from freezing to almost too hot in the span of a minute as he made it inside, he quickly felt perspiration settle against his skin. It was dark in the club, the hot air stifling and the warm bodies around him almost overpowering in their intensity. He knew he should have had a drink before he left his apartment. Clubs were okay but never until he had some alcohol in his system.

As he pushed himself through the crowd, his eyes on the alert for his supplier, the outline of someone else, someone infinitely more familiar, registered out of the corner of his eyes. The determined grace to the man's moves brought his mind back to a place in the past and within a split second his eyes were glued to the man, the brunet only a short distance away stealing all of his attention, any and all other plans immediately forgotten.

Unable to believe his own eyes, Seifer stood stock still in his path and watched as the man roughly made his way through the crowd, the guy scanning the people around him as if he was looking for someone. The brunet looked to be in a foul mood, his brows furrowed and movements rigid as he elbowed his way through the crowd. A pair of dark gray denim pants hung low against the man's waist and a plain white tee clung to his firm upper body. The somewhat normal outfit made him stand out from the rest of the crowd, giving all the more credence to it being _the_ Squall Leonhart, pansyboy and ice prince extraordinaire, that walked past him in a busy club in Esthar.

A strange sensation grew in Seifer's chest as he noted the man's slightly longer brown locks. Unable to pinpoint the feeling as either excitement or apprehension, he studied effeminate features, the younger man as pale as ever. Brought back to a time filled with regrets, Seifer's mind was quickly spinning out of control, bombarded with thoughts of the past. Entirely unprepared for ever running into the other man again, he was stuck in place, speechless, his eyes widening in surprise. However many times he had recalled the imagery of the man before him in the past, it was shocking how little justice those fleeting memories did to the striking reality. If there had ever been such a thing as perfection, Squall was certainly it.

As his mind returned farther back in time, back to a time before sorceresses and wars, to the countless nights he'd spent trying to outdo the brunet in all aspects and put the younger man in his place, an upwards tug pulled at the corner of his mouth. Soon, a fully fledged smirk graced his lips as a particularly fond memory played back in his mind. Keeping his gaze trained on Squall, unwilling and wholly unable to tear his eyes away, he could do nothing but watch.

Tired and worried, Squall's frustration quickly mounted at not finding Rinoa. Upon receiving the text from Rinoa saying she was at a club in the Tiamat district, he had driven there like a madman. He still couldn't help but worry if something had gone wrong after her appointment with Odine, even if her being at a club meant it was much more likely she'd just be drunk. He'd never forgive himself if something happened to her because of his neglect. Much preferring to nurse the girl through a particularly bad hangover to the other alternatives that played through his mind, he strongly hoped drunk would indeed be the case and that this would be the club where he'd find her.

_'Hurry.'_

The word that had ended Rinoa's last text message had wrapped around his brain with unforgiving urgency. She needed him. The heavy brick sitting in the pit of his stomach wouldn't go away until he had his sorceress with him, safe and unharmed. Pulse racing with an all too familiar kind of worry, reminiscent of the time just before their move to Esthar, Squall's frustration soon reached its boiling point. Angry at the dancing mass obstructing his path and angry at Rinoa for not leaving him any clearer location, Squall felt the last of his patience slipping away. He had already looked through one club without finding her.

As he roughly elbowed his way through sweating bodies with renewed vigor, he suddenly sensed intense eyes fixed on him, watching him. Noticing someone had stopped dead in his tracks in his peripheral vision, Squall turned to meet the other with a dissuading glare and found himself staring into vibrant green eyes.

_Seifer_. It was undeniably Seifer standing there, sizing him up. Utterly unprepared, Squall froze in place. Having found no resolution to what had happened during the war, the mere mention of the ex-knight's name at an unguarded moment was enough to send his chest clenching. The actual sight of his childhood rival, the man very _real_ and just a few meters away, was far worse. Thoughts of Rinoa were effectively disrupted as Squall stood transfixed, his mind refusing to grapple with the highly unlikely encounter. Any past plans or notions on what he'd do when offered the chance to confront Seifer bled from him as his eyes raked the tall form in front of him. He didn't feel the expected rage or even relief. His legs wouldn't move. His hands didn't clench into fists. Instead Squall found himself cataloguing away every single change in the tall blond with a detached sort of attention for detail. Anything to keep his mind from derailing.

Apart from a deeper tan, the ex-knight hadn't changed much, his broad shoulders and muscled arms filling out his black dress shirt a telltale sign he hadn't let his shape slip in the slightest. Upon registering the absence of a gray trench coat, silver choker, and Hyperion, Squall couldn't help but find the resulting look strangely disparate from the image residing in his memory, but it seemed the essence had remained the same. The older man was as impressive as ever: his short blond hair slicked back, pose arrogant, green eyes intense, and that_ smirk_. Pulled back in time, the sight reminded him of a simpler life, a time before that smirk changed into a dangerous grin, insane and void of mercy. Seeing Seifer looking so much like he used to caused painful regret to well up inside Squall—regret that he hadn't been able to stop things from going the way they had during the war and regret that he'd lost his sparring partner without ever knowing why.

The moment ended abruptly when he was pulled from his stupor by the incessant vibrating of his cell phone. Instantly remembering Rinoa and his purpose there, Squall forced his gaze away from Seifer to fish his cell out of his pocket. Worry setting back in, he gratefully took the sudden distraction for the saving grace that it was and quickly picked up, pale hands clamped over his ears in an attempt to block out the loud music.

At hearing Rinoa's indistinct voice, unable to make out much of her drunk bawling with the loud background noise, an angry frown returned to his brow. _So drunk it is then_. Far from being an isolated incident, the girl was putting his nerves to the test yet again. Catching a slurred "upstairs" from the string of unintelligible words, Squall remembered the set of stairs he passed on his way in.

Seifer would have to wait, he decided, ignoring the emotions surging inside him at encountering the blond. His sorceress would always be his priority, no matter what. Detaching himself from a possibly disastrous situation to tackle a merely stressful one, he spared Seifer one last glance before he abruptly turned his back to the blond and started walking in the other direction, phone still held to his ear in the hopes of getting more useful input out of the drunk woman. Concern driving him further, he didn't stop to consider the fact that he had stopped breathing for long seconds, the pressure lifting off his chest with every distancing step he took away from the ex-knight.

Only a few things could get Seifer's temper to flare within a split second—well, maybe not a few but _quite a few_—but one of them was without doubt, hands down, being ignored by pansyboy. Never in his wildest imagination had he predicted a chance encounter between them to play out like that. It had been anticlimactic to say the least. He would have preferred some kind of reaction, _any_ kind of reaction, to Squall just utterly ignoring him. Hands clenched and mood impossibly dark, he swore under his breath as he stalked after the younger man. Speeding up, he got close enough to grab hold of one of Squall's shoulders. Strengthening his grip and stopping in place, he forced the younger man to turn around on the spot and face him.

"What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?" he spat angrily before he could help himself, eyes narrowed in venom.

Quelling his annoyance at the taller man pinning him in place, Squall fought the instinctual urge to strike back in retaliation. Slowly he lowered the hand holding the phone, ignoring the almost painful hold on his shoulder whilst steeling himself. With an inward curse at the horribly timed confrontation, he glared at the tall blond towering over him and pulled back slightly in distaste at the overwhelming smell of heavy aftershave surrounding the other man. The only scents he had ever associated with the man were those of metal, gunpowder, and sweat. And later blood. Hyne, he wasn't ready for this. He did _not_ have time for this.

At Squall's distancing move and annoyed expression, Seifer felt the last of his composure faltering. He couldn't believe the brunet's nerve, that Squall wanted to simply ignore him after everything that had happened. What he'd done to Squall and the rest of the world during the war had been atrocious, not something to be discounted with the shrug of a shoulder. Or was that Squall's point, that he just couldn't care less about some inconsequential shit like Seifer? That he was just some measly, worthless piece of trash undeserving of the great Commander's attention? Regardless of the other man's reasoning, Seifer felt himself dangerously close to losing control, already imagining sending a fist connecting with pretty boy's face.

"_Two fucking years_ and you just _walk away_?" he managed in blind fury, absolutely incredulous at the younger man's behavior.

Nearly flinching at the biting words, Squall realized Seifer wasn't planning on letting him go any time soon. A quick downward glance at the cold blue glow of his cell phone told him the call hadn't disconnected yet, his attention torn between his distraught sorceress on the other side of the connection and the man he had wanted to face ever since the war.

Clenching his free hand into a hard fist, Seifer knew it was only a matter of seconds before his self-control would take a dangerous turn for the worse. He knew outright assaulting Squall in the middle of the club was not the way to go, was far from the apology he'd always planned to make if he'd ever cross paths with the man, but Squall was pushing all the right buttons, each and every one of the man's moves making Seifer's already limited amount of self-restraint become next to void.

Pale features growing exasperated, Squall looked back up to meet Seifer's eyes, a sense of urgency present in gray-blue. He needed to find Rinoa, not drown in the past. Smothering the flare of emotion at having Seifer so close, he barely maintained an indifferent demeanor. "Not now, Almasy," he stated coldly, before he twisted out of Seifer's hold and made a beeline for the large set of stairs that led to the upper level of the club. With every purposeful stride, he tried hard to push away thoughts of the blond inhabiting his darker dreams, firmly focusing on his sorceress instead and vaguely imagining he could feel a slow trickle of her energy bleeding into their blurred bond.

Seething, Seifer stood rooted in place. Watching as Squall moved through the crowd, away from him, his clenched fists tightened, his grip becoming almost painful. His eyes were mere slits, his jaws clenched, his teeth gritted, and his posture rigid. He wanted nothing more than to stalk after the man, but he knew if he did, blood would spill. There was a moment of indecision, a moment where his body almost decided for him as it moved half a step in the other man's direction before he could stop it. How sweet it would feel to throw the other to the ground and let his fists do the talking.

Taking a deep breath, he forced his mind to still, forced his eyes away, but his anger didn't abate. He couldn't believe what had just happened. He couldn't believe Squall had just treated him with such disregard. Why the hell hadn't he punched Squall like he should have?

The poisonous yellow eyes of his mistress flashed before his eyes. The red of open wounds he'd caused on his teenage sparring partner and rival when they had been locked in a deadly battle. Their last battle. Throwing Squall against the harsh gray wall of a prison cell. Watching as the other's body convulsed in seizure under the hands of his torture.

It hurt. The memories of the war hurt, the passage of time not having dulled them in the least. They remained sharp and bitter; filled him with regret. What he had done had been inexcusable.

The anger slowly simmered away. He decided he would get what he had come for. He would find his dealer and then he would wait for Squall. There was no way he could leave with the knowledge that Squall was close by. He had to apologize for what he had done. Squall would just have to listen. Somehow he'd make him listen.

Relieved when he no longer felt the blond's looming presence, having been successful in deterring the man from his pursuit, Squall gratefully left the mass of dancing people behind him and managed to reach the flight of stairs. The feel of sweating bodies rubbing against him as he pushed past them left him repulsed and on edge. Everything about the place did: the pungent smells and stale smoke hanging in the humid air; the intoxicated people shamelessly grinding into each other; the appreciating glances brushing over his body. All of it made him want to get it over with as fast as possible. Why on earth did Rinoa like to frequent places like this? His steps faltered slightly as he started climbing upstairs. Why was _he_ in this kind of place?

His gaze was drawn back to where the tall and fuming blond had been standing. Observing Seifer's trek across the dance floor towards a smartly dressed man, Seifer's expression no longer one of blind fury, Squall squinted to better make out the figure beckoning the blond, but before he could ponder his unprompted curiosity or reluctance to leave, renewed worry for Rinoa demanded his attention. Tearing his eyes away from the ex-knight, he briskly turned around with a growing scowl in place and continued his way up the stairs, hoping against hope that his retrieval of the drunk girl would go more smoothly than the rest of his day had.

Once upstairs, Squall's eyes immediately singled out the person he had been looking for, the sight temporarily dispelling all other thought. Pocketing his cell phone, he let out an unsteady sigh of relief, some of the tension that had built up in his muscles and crept into his posture starting to drain from him at finally locating his sorceress. With great effort he reined in the powerful urge to storm over to where she was sitting, instead keeping his steps short and measured as he wove a path through the crowd. The last thing he wanted was to draw unnecessary attention to himself.

Determinedly, he kept his eyes trained on Rinoa as he made his way over to her, the girl seemingly dazed and slumped down on one of the lounge chairs lining the farthest wall. She was unharmed as far as he could tell, her eyes a normal color and staring off into the distance as she clutched her cell phone. She seemed calm enough, no sign of powerful magic crackling in the air, the dried tear tracks running down her cheeks the only trace of her previous distress.

Relieved that his mad hunt was finally over, Squall didn't immediately notice the dark skinned man seated next to her, the man's arm draped intimately across her frail shoulders. Nearing the other side of the large room, bodies moving out of the way and clearing his view, Squall's unsuspecting gaze fell to the close press of the man's chest against the unresponsive girl's side. The man's tongue daringly traced the outline of her ear and nibbled at her playfully, whilst a coaxing hand urged her to get up from the chair.

Blinking just a few times, taking in the scene before him, Squall immediately felt his anger rise. Not that he didn't have a general idea of what Rinoa was up to when she left the apartment and stayed out for the night. What she did with whom was none of his business. Not after she broke up with him, he tersely told himself, almost believing he didn't care about his ex-girlfriend's promiscuity. But _this_. This was something different entirely. Mad with worry, he had driven across town, only to find her utterly drunk with some undeserving prick draped all over her. She had involved him in her nighttime outings, when he wanted no part of it. Being shitfaced when out partying didn't usually prompt her to call him in for assistance, a taxi just as able to get her home in one piece. Anger rising at her astounding lack of consideration, Squall cracked under the strain of all the emotions laying siege to his already tired mind.

Did she want him to see her flirting with men like that? And whatthe helldid the guy think he was doing, taking advantage of a drunk woman in such a way. She wasn't in her right mind. She needed the guy to get his hands off of her. Protective instincts kicking in, he sped up his steps with determined calculation and made for the couple sitting next to each other far too comfortably, before he pulled his sorceress out of the man's loose embrace.

"We're going," he bit out tersely, immediately turning around and dragging her along.

Starting from her daze at the rough treatment, Rinoa looked at him in confusion. Mindlessly she let herself be pulled across the room, before brown eyes widened, the young woman suddenly bursting into a fit of anger. "Let me _go_!"

Trying to free her arm from his iron grip, she kept cursing at him, the reek of alcohol on her breath making Squall's nose wrinkle in revulsion. People were starting to look up from their drinks, curiously following his struggle towards the stairs with the livid girl in tow. Looking over his shoulder, his gaze meeting Rinoa's eyes burning with resentment and tears, his mind buckled at his utter lack of understanding. A confused frown graced his brow, as he pointed out evenly, "You wanted me to come and pick you up."

Looking at him incredulously, Rinoa let the brunet's neutral statement sink in for a moment. "That's it? _You_-You _see_ me here with another man and that's all you have to say?" Tears starting to stream freely down reddened cheeks, the young woman's features contorted as she snarled, "_Fuck you_, Squall! Let—me—go!"

So she had done it deliberately. To hurt him? To gauge his reaction? Unable to fathom her motives for humiliating him in such a way, Squall tried to keep his anger in check. What the hell did she want him to say? Ever since the day she broke off their relationship, there wasn't anything left to say.

"You're drunk. Stop making a scene and let's go," he commanded tersely, but still she dragged her feet along the floor in an attempt to stop his advancement. Her vicious words lashing out at him only waned his patience further. Feeling increasingly embarrassed at the looks they were getting, he tried to speed up, when suddenly Rinoa's wrist was yanked from his grip, followed by an angry voice booming in his direction. "The girl clearly doesn't want to leave, so where the fuck do you think you're taking her?"

Slowly turning around, he came face to face with the dark skinned man that had been sitting with Rinoa. The man was furious, eyes narrowed in anger and chin thrust out in arrogance. Groaning inwardly, Squall couldn't muster the patience to get rid of the guy tactfully. The night had already been far too taxing on his nerves and he desperately wanted to leave.

"Home," he replied calmly, before continuing in a voice that promised pain, if the man was unwise enough not to step out of his way. "_Back. Off._"

The man's face reddened in fury as he foolishly decided to swipe out a fist. Annoyed and secretly pleased at the chance to vent some of his pent up stress, Squall easily sidestepped the clumsy attack and hit the guy square in the face, channeling all of his frustration into the immensely satisfying act. Crashing to the floor, the man released a string of curses, but Squall didn't linger. Quickly making his way to the stairs, he hoped to avoid any further escalation of the situation, but by then Rinoa was effectively in hysterics, the girl putting up even more of a struggle.

When they had made it halfway down the staircase, angered shouts sounded from behind them, signaling the dark skinned man was in hot pursuit and seriously pissed off. In no mood for another confrontation, Squall ignored Rinoa's protests and kept his focus on reaching the exit. Making his way through the suffocating crowd, still feeling Rinoa's resistance to his rough steering, he briefly looked over his shoulder, when a sudden stinging slap to his cheek stopped him in his tracks. Stunned, he brought up a hand to heated skin, as he turned fully to regard his angered sorceress.

"Listen to me!" she hissed dangerously, opening the sluice gates of their connection and her power over him. A wild torrent of rage and hurt tore through their bond, demanding his undivided attention and rendering him speechless. Immobilized, he felt bile rise at the back of his throat at the unnatural manipulation. Mind reeling at the intensity of his sorceress, Rinoa's hand slipped from his grasp, as the man cradling a heavily bleeding nose caught up with them and forcefully pulled Rinoa to his side.

"This is just not working out anymore," Rinoa bit out, almost trembling. "I—I'm done waiting for something that will never happen. You just don't care about me," she added with accusing force, causing him actual physical pain.

Nauseated at the waves of unbridled anger accompanying each harsh word, the bewildered brunet looked at Rinoa in disbelief. "I don't care? You're the one that—" Quickly swallowing the rest of what was laying on his tongue, remembering they were far from alone, Squall felt increasingly ill at ease. He resolutely reined in his temper, needing to abate Rinoa's anger and put an end to the scene she was causing. "Just come home with me," he urged, battling the onslaught of magic gushing through their bond. "Let's talk there."

Snorting at Squall's request, Rinoa looked at him squarely. "No," she declared firmly, before continuing to disclose private details to all who could hear. "Did you ever stop to think _why_ I broke up with you? You didn't even _flinch_ when I did. You don't even care when I'm with other men." Pausing to guide as much persuasion into their connection as she could, she asked darkly, "Tell me honestly, Squall. Did you ever love me?"

Blinking at the absurdity of what Rinoa was insinuating, the overwhelming pressure of her hold over him caused the blood to drain from his face. Throughout their entire relationship he had done everything within his power to please her. But it hadn't been enough. When she broke up with him, he simply figured what he had to offer didn't suffice. And in a way he understood. It wasn't like he could change anything. Change himself. But he had always cared deeply for Rinoa. Even now. That's why he had stayed as her knight.

Not seeing the reason why Rinoa apparently found him deserving of public humiliation and unwilling to discuss such private matters in front of an audience, Squall just cast her a warning glare, barely managing the sign of defiance in the face of his seething sorceress. As silence stretched on, a hurt look entered deep brown eyes, causing his head to throb painfully at the renewed assault of raw emotion pounding away at the inside of his skull.

"I see..." she muttered in defeat. "When you look at me, all you see is responsibility. Someone to protect." Faltering briefly, Rinoa slammed their connection shut with resonating finality, the sudden lack of lashing and coiling magic almost stealing the air out of his lungs. An unreadable quality entered her gaze as she stated evenly, "Well, Squall. I relieve you from your _duty_."

"...What do you mean?" he managed uncertainly, horrid suspicion forming at the back of his mind.

"I want to cut our bond," Rinoa stated more bravely than her small trembling frame suggested. "It's why I agreed to come to Esthar in the first place. I don't need you anymore."

Feeling a detached sense of dread settle over him at Rinoa's poisonous words, Squall merely stood there, his features turning expressionless. He refused to accept what was happening. He'd always be her knight.

Looking increasingly defeated at the brunet's lack of response, dark bitterness entered Rinoa's voice as she whispered coldly, "...That's what I thought. To think I expected anything else... Goodbye Squall." Chin starting to tremble, she quickly turned around and allowed the dark skinned man to wrap a stabilizing arm around her waist as they walked out of the club together.

Vaguely aware of the abnormal disconnect between the severity of what Rinoa had just announced and his inability to act on it and pursue her, Squall released a trembling breath. She was serious. He had _felt_ it. Stirring from his shock long seconds after Rinoa had disappeared into the crowd, his surroundings started to register with him again. Blaring music filtered back in, heedless of his distress. Voices of strangers buzzed around him loudly, varying from scandalized to amused. Escape foremost on his mind, he scowled darkly at the people gawking at him, as he convinced his limbs to move and plowed through the crowd once more, but the feeling of those eyes on him, the same as before, forced his gaze away from the exit.

Seifer was staring at him. Intently. He had forgotten all about the blond. Dark eyebrows lifting in undisguised surprise, he stood rooted into place, unable to deal with what the night was throwing his way. The sudden understanding dawned on him that the man had probably witnessed everything. He felt almost sick as acute shame knotted his stomach at being degraded in such a way. Running an unsteady hand through his bangs, he knew he couldn't avoid what came next. He had to deal with his past, had wanted to for so long. But he couldn't stand to stay there a second longer either. Weighed down by the importance of the moment and his decision, his train of thought was paralyzed.

Fully aware that Squall had spotted him, Seifer pushed away from the bar and headed in the direction of the brunet. It was time. He didn't know what to make of what he'd just witnessed between Squall and Rinoa, but it didn't matter. He hadn't even heard what had been said, only looked on as the scene had unfolded. Raijin and Fujin had told him the two had become an item shortly after the war, but that had been ages ago and his friends had lost contact with anyone from Garden since then, so things could easily have changed. Not that any of it mattered. Only one thing did.

Advancing upon the brunet, he kept his gaze firm. He wouldn't let Squall get away. He really hadn't expected to ever see Squall again. He had wondered about it, considered how he would make his apology for what he had put the man through during the war, but never expected it. With Squall being the SeeD Commander, he hadn't imagined them frequenting the same places and had been relieved by the thought. It was much easier to plan apologies when the likelihood of having to follow through were next to none.

Keeping his expression neutral and averting his eyes, he came to a stop next to the brunet. "Want to get out of here?" he asked, his voice loud enough to be heard without him having to lean in and upset the man's comfort zone.

Looking up at Seifer, the man's determined approach having decided his course of action for him, Squall was temporarily confused by the unexpected offer. He had been bracing himself for anger or derision, his public humiliation just moments ago providing the blond with perfect subject material. Instead Seifer seemed almost... considerate.

With an inward huff he dismissed the odd thought and let his gaze settle back on their gaping audience. Quickly sobering from his surprise, he gave a terse nod in reply. He was far from at ease and wanted to leave badly, even if it meant going along with the blond's suggestion. "I was going anyway," he deadpanned, not granting Seifer another look as he started toward the exit.

Following the brunet outside, Seifer didn't quite know what to make of the situation. He could imagine Squall being shaken up by what had just happened, unless the ice prince was still his good old self and nothing got to him. Realizing it most likely wasn't the wisest of times to engage Squall in conversation, not that such a time ever existed, he forced himself not to back down. Good time or not, it was the reality he had been dealt. Outside in the fresh air, he took a deep steadying breath before he let Squall take the lead, not knowing what to expect from the man.

Drawing his arms close to his body as the chill night air met clammy skin, Squall couldn't suppress a shiver from running down his spine. Hearing the blond's subdued footsteps follow him outside, he quickly kept walking, unable to look the other's way. He couldn't believe Seifer was trailing quietly behind him, the situation unlike anything he would've imagined. The man seemed to have forgotten about being ignored or at least wasn't angry anymore, which was unusual. Seifer didn't forget about unsettled scores, was never one to leave a retort unsaid or a debt unpaid. The thought left him cold inside. There was no way their reunion could play out peacefully.

He couldn't imagine Seifer wanting a civil talk, not with all the bad blood between them. Why had he offered to leave the club together? Why hadn't he beaten Squall within an inch of his life yet? Perhaps the taller man was waiting for a more opportune time and setting. A deserted back alley. There were plenty of those in the unsavory neighborhood they were passing through. Squall wasn't sure he'd be able to fight back. Not again. Not without answers.

As they walked side by side in silence, the flashy scenery of noisy clubs and daringly dressed people on the prowl grew more desolate and was slowly replaced by quiet streets and the occasional insomniac on a late night walk. Thoughts racing and confused, Squall couldn't decide what was more disturbing: his formal rival witnessing what had happened with Rinoa or the fact that the blond wasn't rubbing his nose in said fact. If not a head-on physical attack, then he at least would've expected to be the focus of _some_ sort of verbal abuse. Considering the circumstances, the man was uncharacteristically silent.

Casting Seifer a sideway glance in an attempt at gauging the other's mood, Squall found nothing to clue him in to the blond's intentions. The sharply outlined profile of the taller man only managed to squirm his stomach into a tighter knot. Giving up on trying to make sense of the situation, he quickly turned his gaze away. He'd just have to come up with a plan once they reached his car.

Arriving at his car short minutes later, Squall stopped and slowly turned to face Seifer. No plan had dawned on him; no fitting words had presented themselves. Over two years of doubt and questions burned at the back of his mind, but when push came to shove, he couldn't voice any of them. He feared the truth more than the ex-knight's fist. A fight he would've understood. Rage he could've dealt with. But not this. All Squall could do was remain in place and keep uncertain eyes trained on the blond as he awaited the other's move.

Unable to suppress the frown growing on his features, Seifer was completely thrown off by Squall leading him to what he could only assume was the brunet's car. He knew Squall wasn't planning on taking him anywhere. Which meant this was it. Sensing gray-blue eyes studying him, he looked away, unable to meet the younger man's gaze as he brought up his hand to scratch at the back of his head, cursing the stupid move that easily betrayed his unease.

"I guess this is it then..." Seifer finally spoke in a low voice, not really knowing what else to say or how to start his awkward apology. "Look... I don't know what happened back there..." he began and shifted his gaze to the ground, his hands tucked into his pockets.

"And I know this is bad timing and all..." he continued as he moved his gaze to the stars, temporarily lost to contemplation, his features no longer able to mask his distress. Just thinking about what he'd done made him feel sick to his stomach. He could still see the flares of electricity pulling Squall's body tight on the metallic cross and hear the silent screams. "But for what it's worth, Squall," he said, finally gathering the courage to look at the younger man, green eyes utterly sincere, "I'm sorry."

After moments of silence he turned around and started walking back in the direction they had come from, his steps slow and measured.

Gray-blue eyes widened at the unprompted and out of context apology. Not at all having anticipated such an abrupt end to their short meeting, Squall stood shocked into place by the honesty in Seifer's eyes. His mind providing him with a bewildered _What?_, he was given no time to process the laden words as the other walked away from him. Something about the sight of Seifer's retreating back, more so than the man's words, struck a deep chord within his chest. As sudden urgency spurred him into action without intervention of rational thought, his feet carried him after the blond.

"… Wait!"

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**A/N: **And thus the real story begins :) Thank you for reading so far - if you want to make our day, leave a review! :D And as always, thank you for betaing, Aera!


	4. Unexpected Turns

**~ Chapter Four - Unexpected Turns ~**

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**[A Backstreet in Esthar, ****Tiamat District****, Thursday, 16th of October, 1:53 am]**

"…Wait!"

The sudden shout rang loudly through the night, its tone not quite pleading but still betraying whatever emotion it was that had led Squall to put up with Seifer accompanying him that far in the first place. Turning around at the unexpected word, Seifer studied the younger man. Squall had moved a couple of steps in his direction, his dark eyebrows drawn together in confusion, as if he hadn't quite meant for the yell to escape him. Not sure what to make of the unexpected call, Seifer returned Squall's gaze tiredly. He didn't care to prolong their time together, already drained from remembering a past he'd rather forget.

Having prevented the blond's disappearance, at least for the time being, Squall's brain reluctantly caught up with his actions. Cringing inwardly, his unease was magnified tenfold as he realized an undoubtedly desperate edge had crept into his plea. He needed to get a grip, fast, but he also needed to understand what the hell Seifer had meant by the more than vague apology. Schooling his expression into a show of composure he didn't feel, he fixed the ex-knight in place with what he hoped was a serious gaze in demand of an explanation.

Met with the brunet's firm gaze, Seifer couldn't suppress his instinctual irritation at being studied so closely. Increasingly edgy, he let out an annoyed, "What?"

"Two years, and you just _walk away_?" Squall demanded, mimicking Seifer's earlier words in an attempt to stall their inevitable parting. He knew the repeated question was hardly fair but hoped it would at least manage to irk the blond and keep the man within his reach until he could think of the right thing to say.

With jade eyes still trained on him, his next words came more uncertainly. "Before I had to—I couldn't stay before, but maybe now we..." he tried, but the last of his words died away completely. Choking on the request he wasn't sure he wanted to make in the first place, he took a step back and began fumbling in his pockets in search of his car keys, looking at anything but Seifer.

Frowning at the uncharacteristic display of emotion, Seifer suppressed his confusion as he tried to understand what was happening. It seemed Squall wanted to talk, but that couldn't be right; the man had never wanted to talk before in his _life_.

When the brunet's hand emerged from his pockets and two successive beeps signaled the car being unlocked, Seifer found himself closing the space between them and taking hold of Squall's wrist as the man reached out to open the door to the driver's seat.

"I know a place close by... or if you want, I live five minutes from here by car," he said, keeping his eyes firm on Squall.

Uneasy at the other's close proximity and the hand confining his wrist, Squall shook off Seifer's hold. Surely he hadn't heard that right, the reluctant offer not at all normal behavior on the blond's part. But as he stared at the key fob held tightly in his hand, the man's inexplicable offer echoed in his mind. Somehow he had managed to convey his intent, he figured. Or he was walking into some kind of trap. Their past not offering any guiding precedent, he couldn't tell if he was being paranoid or if Seifer actually intended to be civil.

Contemplating the evils of the decision that had already formed in his mind, he quickly reached the conclusion that he needed closure. "Anywhere's fine. I... don't really... just somewhere we could talk," he managed quietly in indication of both his assent and disinterest in choice of setting.

Annoyed at Squall's dismissal of his grasp, Seifer's eyes narrowed. "Let's go then," he said, unable to hide his irritation as he moved to the other side of the car and waited for Squall to get in, wanting the brunet to make the final decision.

Squall hardly cared about the blond's annoyance with him, the reaction reassuringly familiar and easy to ignore. If anything, it meant some semblance of normality when everything else about their current interaction was decidedly abnormal. Before he could change his mind, he took Seifer's grumbled reply as his cue and slid into the driver's seat.

_Don't think. _Deconstructing the sound of the blond getting into his car into a soft click, the creaking of leather, and the muffled slam of the car door, it almost seemed unreal. But he couldn't filter out the strong reek of the blond's cologne, nor the feel of the man's eyes boring into him. _Don't think. Just drive._ Starting the engine with a slow turn of the key, he looked over at Seifer when he finally felt sufficiently in control of himself again and awaited further instructions.

Scolding himself inwardly for reacting so strongly to behavior he knew was typical for Squall, Seifer briefly studied the man. He greatly disliked the lack of emotions present on Squall's face, especially knowing he was the cause. Even though Squall's uncharacteristic display earlier had been eerie, the schooled expression of apathy always grated on his nerves. Ignoring the tension hanging heavy in the air, he leaned back in the cold seat and forced himself to relax.

"I live close to the lift access point on the corner of Gayla Street and Centra Avenue," he said, looking out the window. "You know where it is?"

A brief nod was Squall's only reply as the brunet fixed his gaze in front of him and pulled out of the parking space.

"Just use the parking lot by the lift access point," Seifer continued, keeping his hands on his knees and his face turned away from Squall in an effort to hide his edginess.

Cringing inwardly, Seifer became more and more aware of the fact that what was happening most likely, probably, really _wasn't_ such a good idea. Never in his wildest imagination had he expected to be bringing Squall back to his apartment. So much for a night of sex.

Looking out of the car window, watching the trails of neon lights whiz by, the recent memory of a drunk Rinoa surfaced. Her appearance hadn't changed much, the girl still looking every bit as naive as when he'd first laid eyes on her years ago. He couldn't help but wonder what she had been doing at the club. It was obvious Squall had come there because of her and that she had been the reason Squall had ignored him. She had been with another guy. That much had been clear. Not understanding why Squall had just accepted the slap and let her leave, Seifer's brow furrowed. Were they still together? And if they were, then why did Squall just let her go like that? It didn't make any sense.

Neither did Squall wanting to talk to him. When had Squall ever wanted to talk to anyone? It was surreal and not just a little unsettling. It was going to be one hell of an awkward night, that much was certain. What did he have to say to a man he hadn't seen in years? The man he had tortured mercilessly and tried to kill at his mistress's bidding. The man he respected more than anyone else but knew he didn't deserve any respect from in return. Gritting his teeth at the stupid decision to bring Squall back to his apartment, he briefly considered the option of getting out of it whilst he still had the chance. All he had to do was mess up the precarious balance they had going and return to the nightlife that was waiting for him. It would be easy, but he had never cared for easy.

Unable to keep unwanted thoughts from emerging as the minutes melted together into one long awkward silence, Squall's hands clenched against the steering wheel. There was hardly enough traffic late at night to demand all of his attention. Even as he tore through the streets faster than was necessary, the blond's return to muteness blared louder in his ears than the low rumble of the car engine, the ex-knight's presence increasingly stifling.

As time lapsed, it became apparent that Seifer wouldn't instigate conversation of any kind, which left quite the unappealing alternative. Squall knew what he wanted to ask, what needed to be said, but no matter how many times he tried to work it out in his head, he couldn't think of a way to go about asking it. Uncertainty gnawed at him. Why had Seifer apologized? It was incriminating to say the least. Was the man next to him innocent or a murderer? Had he abandoned his childhood rival or had he been too weak to do what had needed to be done? How did one ask such questions? Thoughts descending into times of war, Squall's gaze darkened and the scenery sped by a little faster, his foot pressing down on the gas pedal with slightly more force.

He hadn't known what he was doing at all. He had been a mere teenager, inexperienced and forced to make decisions that could easily have turned out horribly wrong. Many had died. Many things could've been done better. _He_ could've done better. Instead he had been strung along by higher powers, a puppet in their unfolding play. The dawning realization that perhaps it had been the same for Seifer, the blond a victim just like the rest of them, had plagued him ever since the end of the war. At the time all he had managed to find out was that Seifer had survived time compression. He had tried coming to terms with never finding out the truth and had sworn he'd never let such a thing happen again.

After the war he had pushed himself and striven to become a true commander worthy of the title and the responsibility that it represented, not the joke he had been during the war. Not because he had wanted to, but because there hadn't been anybody else. Because he had needed the distraction and it was his way to make up for past mistakes. In becoming a man of duty above all else, he thought he had managed to bury his insecurities and doubts. But here he was, seated next to the man he had never expected to meet again and not feeling a shred more competent as he pulled into the parking lot the blond had specified.

Torn from his thoughts as the car came to a halt, Seifer unbuckled his seat belt and got out without a single glance in the brunet's direction. Picking up his stride, he set a brisk pace towards his apartment, the corner of his lips sloping downwards. He didn't like where things were going. It really had been the mother of all stupid ideas to bring Squall home. It was his private haven and he really didn't like the idea of the guy setting foot in it. Squall was his past, his apartment his present; two different realities he didn't want to merge. He knew there wasn't much pride left after he'd been reduced to Ultimecia's bloodhound, but the thought of Squall's scrutinizing eyes upon his home, all he had managed to gather together since the war, made his skin crawl. There was no doubt the man would recognize the area as one of the cheapest in Esthar and from that infer just how low Seifer had sunk after the war.

Continuing in his stride, Seifer didn't look back to see if Squall was following, just placed his hands in his pockets as he felt the cold night air cut through the thin layers of his clothing and tried to empty his mind.

As they made their way down a side street to Centra Avenue, the buildings quickly lost their sophistication. They were still good examples of Estharian architecture, but it was easy to spot the advancing age of the materials. Some of the white arches and blue walls were losing their luminescence, their slight flickering blemishing the entire atmosphere of the place. Three large skyscrapers were lined up to their right, each one looking more run down than the last. Reaching the entrance of the second one, Seifer cast a brief glance over his shoulder to check if Squall was still there.

Squall merely stood there, no judgment or surprise apparent in his eyes as he looked up at the tall building in mild curiosity before following Seifer inside. During their drive there he hadn't really noticed that they had ventured into one of Esthar's more dilapidated neighborhoods, but now that he had, he tried to imagine how Seifer could've ended up there. He clearly remembered the blond cadet complaining about having to share cramped dorm rooms, each roommate more unworthy and stupid than the last, and declaring arrogantly that he'd find a place more befitting of someone of his ability. The apartment building hardly looked like it would house the lavish quarters his onetime rival had envisioned. Dismissing the useless train of thought, well aware that war changed everything, Squall softly shook his head. He couldn't care less whether Seifer lived in a villa or a motel room.

Inside the entrance hall the ceiling hung low, almost claustrophobically so, nothing at all like the skyscrapers of a more recent date with their grandiose lobbies. The floors were dirty and littered with discarded newspapers and other trash. Walking over to one of the many lifts that were the only other exits to the room, Seifer pushed a button to call it down.

As they waited for the lift, Seifer leant his shoulder against the wall, his hands still tucked into his pockets as he finally let himself study the brunet. It was strange seeing Squall in such plain clothes. He couldn't remember a time when Squall hadn't been obsessed with leather and belts. For years it had been yet another source of ammunition when teasing the guy. But after the war, after Seifer had realized his attraction towards men, he had become painfully aware of the style's appeal. Many of his fantasies had involved Squall's infamous belts, the thought of their removal and subsequent use downright irresistible.

When a ding signaled the lift's arrival, Seifer straightened up and walked inside, not waiting for Squall to enter. Pressing the number 9, he placed himself as far away from the other man as possible.

As Seifer left as much space between them as the confines of the elevator allowed, Squall frowned. One moment Seifer was boring his eyes into him, the next he was being utterly ignored. The uncharacteristic silence did little to ease his discomfort either. Seifer had never bothered avoiding him before, always eager to push his buttons. At the deep sigh following the elevator jerking into motion, he chanced a quick glance at the blond. Judging from the man's dark expession, Seifer was far from pleased about his presence, but then why had he extended an invitation in the first place? To his own place no less?

Quickly cutting off returning thoughts of a trap, Squall willed himself to remain composed, but slender fingers disobeyed and fidgeted almost unnoticeably. The air felt too heavy. Increasingly uneasy as stifling silence filled the small space, he absentmindedly brushed away some dark strands of hair clinging to his neck and tried to focus on the numbers that lit up one by one, signaling their ascent.

As the lift came to a halt, Seifer exited and took the lead down the narrow hallway. The similarity of the situation to other nights when he'd brought home one night stands didn't escape him, the surreal comparison leading him to snort in amusement at the absurdity of his mind.

Sliding his keys into the lock on his front door, he entered. "This is me."

The atmosphere inside his apartment was entirely different from the rest of the building, the place not rundown or shabby but kept in good condition. It had taken a while, but he'd managed to clean it up nicely. His living room held an en suite kitchen at one end and at the other end a work table that was covered in various weapon parts and accessories. It made the room smell of oil and metal, smells Seifer had always had a soft spot for.

A large couch was placed in the middle of the room. It was well-worn, but that just made it all the more comfortable. He didn't have space for a dining table, so the couch and adjacent coffee table worked as both a place of relaxation and a place for eating. Having used the table as a substitute for his work table on more than one occasion, it had ended up covered in various large stains. The far wall was covered with bookcases, the shelves littered with some of the strange objects he'd picked up on his travels as well as countless books.

There weren't any windows in the living room, a fact Seifer had never really grown used to but had learned to accept nonetheless because of the saved gil. Even though he had worked nonstop for the last couple of years, he still had trouble making ends meet and there was no way he could afford anything bigger.

Walking to the kitchen counter, he put down his keys before stealing a quick glance at Squall. "Make yourself comfortable," he said as he turned around and disappeared into the bedroom.

Standing by his bed, he rifled through his pockets and emptied their contents on the bedside table. Eyeing the Avalanche he had bought earlier that evening, he grimaced as he remembered Calder still waiting for him at the club. Grabbing his cell, he continued into the bathroom and sent the man a short message calling off their night out. He knew the message wasn't going to work wonders as far as placating the guy went, the words 'not coming' its sole content. Running a wet hand through his locks, he dismissed the thought and steeled himself for whatever the night might throw his way instead. Exiting the bathroom, he headed back to the living room. Stopping to stand in the doorway to take stock of the situation, his eyes were immediately drawn to Squall.

Squall was standing by his work desk, the man's fingers ghosting the wooden table and eyes brushing along the many pieces spread out in disarray. He seemed lost in thought, a slight frown in place as he chewed on his bottom lip absentmindedly.

Watching from his position at the other end of the room, a small smile tugged at Seifer's lips. Squall really hadn't changed much, still immediately drawn to anything to do with weapons. Brought back to countless afternoons spent in the brunet's company, the two of them looking through old Weapons Monthly magazines during their breaks, Seifer remembered the glint in the younger man's eyes whenever he had boasted about a new upgrade he'd gotten for Hyperion.

"Hey..." he said softly, wanting Squall's attention.

Startled from his inner musings, Squall turned away from the desk and faced the blond, an eyebrow rising at the slight smile on Seifer lips and the mussed state of usually slicked back hair. He would sooner have expected the blond to reappear with Hyperion in hand or to order him away from the desk. Blinking a few times to reassess the situation, he slowly allowed himself to relax as his former rival remained by the door, the man's stance much less forbidding than moments before. Gaze trailing back to the diverse weapon parts and sketches that had caught his attention before, he picked up a peculiar item he couldn't quite place and turned it in his hands to examine it. He couldn't remember the blond ever busying himself with weapon parts before and these most definitely didn't belong to a gunblade.

"What's all this for?" he asked reverently, genuine interest in his voice.

"Just trying out some modifications," Seifer replied as he walked farther into the room. Remaining close to the kitchen, he continued, "Do you want something to drink?"

Not waiting for an answer, he walked over to a cupboard and grabbed a slender bottle of Galbadian Bluewhistle; his preferred brand of whiskey. "I haven't got much to chose from, but tell me what you want... I'm sure you could use something..." He drew out the last sentence as he glanced over his shoulder to regard Squall.

Placing the shiny piece of metal back on the desk, a morose expression graced Squall's features as Seifer's comment brought fresh memories rushing back to him. Forgetting all about the weapon parts and the questions they raised, he briefly fought for composure. He didn't want to think of Rinoa or her cutting words. He couldn't deal with that and face Seifer at the same time.

Running a hand through chocolate bangs, he scrunched his eyes closed in an attempt to focus on the present and let a tired sigh escape him as he failed to do so. A drink might not be such a bad idea. Familiar with the numbing quality of alcohol, he supposed the circumstances justified an exception to his usual dislike of having his mind clouded. With a nod in the direction of the bottle Seifer was holding, he moved to take a seat on the couch.

"That's fine."

Surprised at the strange quality to Squall's voice, the brunet sounding both tired and upset, Seifer couldn't help but turn around to watch the man. There was something unnerving about the way Squall moved. At the man's sullen expression, he folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the kitchen counter, the bottle of liquor forgotten for the time being. In all the years he'd known Squall he'd never seen the man behave in such a way, the brunet always reserved and composed, never one to let his feelings show. Something big must have happened between Squall and Rinoa at the club for Squall to act in such a way. Disliking that his one time rival was so strangely affected, Seifer wondered if there was some way he could help. Hyne knew he owed the man.

"I have something stronger if you want," he said, his gaze firm on Squall and his features serious. Moving his hands to rest on the kitchen counter, he continued, "Might be good for both of us."

Squall turned to look at Seifer in confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked warily.

Hesitating for a moment, Seifer didn't say anything, not sure whether he wanted to go through with the idea that had suddenly occurred to him or not. His original plan for the evening had been to lose himself to Avalanche; let his body experience nothing but bliss and relaxation. But sharing something like that with Squall would mean exposing himself and he already didn't like the cautious and skeptic qualities to Squall's reply.

Pushing away from the kitchen counter, he reminded himself that he really didn't care what Squall thought either way. Making his way into the bedroom, he walked over to where he had left the pills earlier. Grabbing the small plastic bag, he eyed the brightly colored pills inside and gave himself the briefest of moments to reconsider. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, he walked straight back out of the bedroom and made his way over to the coffee table. Stopping across from where Squall was sitting on the couch, he dropped the plastic bag onto the table without further ado.

"Avalanche," he informed as he gestured at the vibrantly colored pills. "Do you know it?"

Studying Squall's face for a reaction, he was unable to suppress his growing annoyance when no expression appeared to give the man away. He had always hated not knowing what went on inside Squall's head.

The moment Seifer had made his offer, Squall had known the blond hadn't simply meant a stronger liquor. But drugs? Instantly reminded of the fact that he should never underestimate the unpredictable man, he studied the bright pills in distrust. He'd never heard of Avalanche. Then again, he'd never taken any recreational drugs. For Seifer to suggest something along those lines, let alone reveal he owned a bag of the most likely illegal substance to a possible enemy, didn't make any sense. Feeling increasingly impatient eyes on him, he kept his expression unfazed as he looked up to regard the other.

"I don't, but I can make an educated guess," he said neutrally, breaking the silence.

Amused at Squall's reply, Seifer couldn't help himself. "Yeah?" he questioned teasingly, his green eyes dancing in mirth. "And what would that _educated guess_ be then, Squally-boy?" he asked, his trademark smirk sliding into place. Sometimes riling up the brunette was just too easy and too much fun to let the opportunity pass by.

Fixing Seifer with a cold glare, Squall ignored the blond's question. Picking up the bag, he placed it in his palm and scrutinized the innocent looking pills inside.

"Drugs. What are you doing with these..." he trailed off and then suddenly his eyes widened in realization. "That man at the club. You got these from him, didn't you?"

Certain Squall's attention had been elsewhere at the time, Seifer was surprised to learn that Squall had watched him interact with his dealer. Eyes narrowing, not altogether endeared by Squall's astuteness, he bit out his retort. "What does it matter where I got them?"

Grabbing the plastic bag from Squall's hold, he turned around and walked back to the kitchen, his skin crawling at the sensation of being judged. "Nevermind. I'll pour you some of this instead," he said, slipping the bag of pills into a drawer in the kitchen. Taking hold of the bottle of liquor he'd left on the counter earlier, he wanted to dismiss the whole damned thing. Feeling resentful, he muttered out an irritated "Pussyheart" under his breath as he poured two glasses of the dark blue alcohol.

Thrown off by the abrupt change from teasing to affronted, Squall watched the drugs disappear into the drawer with a growing frown, wondering what he had said to earn such a strong reaction. But at the insult he could clearly make out, recognition struck him. This he knew. Challenges and bets had been their game. The blond had never taken no for an answer, but that had never really mattered, since Squall had never wanted to back down either. Every single time he had ended up in detention or suffered through tedious chores as punishment, it had begun with Seifer and a proposition spoken in challenge.

But, as his mind immediately pointed out, they weren't cadets anymore. To suddenly hear that hated yet familiar nickname again seemed entirely out of place given their circumstances. There was bad blood between them. For them to pretend like nothing had happened was impossible. For the blond to expect him to accept such a reckless offer was even more absurd.

Gaze dropping to the coffee table and fixing on the spot where the bag of pills had been sitting mere moments ago, Squall couldn't help but wonder how Seifer had gotten mixed up with such a thing. The man might be impulsive but he wasn't stupid, so there had to be something to it. Why else would a fighter, for whom health and strength were everything, take such risks?

Heading over to the couch, Seifer placed one of the two glasses he'd filled with the blue whiskey in front of the brunet. Taking a seat at the opposite end of the couch, he put his feet up on the coffee table and crossed his legs at his ankles. Disliking the feeling that was eating away at him, he frowned slightly. He felt the urge to explain himself, which irked him. He explained _nothing_ to _no one_. And it wasn't like he gave a fuck about what Squall thought of him; in fact, he couldn't care less. They lived separate lives, would probably never see each other again. So what the hell did it matter?

Yet he knew he was fighting a losing battle. Narrowing his eyes, he stared at the glass in his hand. "I don't do it often. But it... makes you feel good," he said, his voice low and pensive. Taking a sip of his drink, he paused briefly before speaking again. "Everyone needs that."

At the unprompted justification, something he couldn't remember Seifer doing even once in the past, Squall only felt further confusion. For all the things that had remained the same in the blond, there seemed to be just as many things that had changed and clashed with what he knew. Still not looking at the ex-knight, he reached over and took his drink in hand, his thoughts running a mile a minute. He doubted it was a trap. Ironically enough, the blond wouldn't have behaved so suspiciously if that had been the case. It seemed Seifer didn't want a confrontation, the lack of accusations and hostility proof enough. Then maybe the offer had been an attempt at some kind of truce. Maybe it had been for courage, to deal with the rest of the night.

_To feel good._ Staring at the blue liquid and sloshing it around in the glass, Squall contemplated the words. Could Seifer's intention be that simple? The man had never bothered with how he felt before. He would've dismissed the ridiculous idea without another thought, if it wasn't for the blond's uncharacteristic behavior that evening.

_Everyone needs that._ Hyne, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt untroubled, at ease. Though he always felt in his element when out in the field, adrenaline guiding his moves, he knew that wasn't what Seifer had in mind. The only thing close to a drug he had ever experienced had been the Hero shots he'd taken near the end of the war, the clandestine item developed specifically for battle purposes had dragged him back onto his feet more times than was advisable. But temporarily feeling invincible, no pain able to reach him and senses sharpened into deadly precision, hadn't meant he had felt _good_. Far from it.

The night was starting to take its toll on him. The dark blue alcohol in his glass swirled thickly, its strong scent promising numbed thoughts and nerve ends, but not the oblivion he needed. Frowning at where his thoughts were taking him, his grip tightened against cool glass. He had no idea what kind of effect those pills had, but the contemplative tone to Seifer's voice kept echoing in his mind along with what had happened at the club, the prospect of temporary relief withering his apprehension away. He wouldn't ask, he decided. Not knowing in advance seemed better; made the leap all the easier.

Pushing up from the couch, he stalked towards the kitchen without a word. Face drawn taut in determination, ignoring all rational thought, he pulled open the exact drawer in which Seifer had flung the plastic bag and fished out a bright green pill. Unfaltering, he popped it into his mouth and washed the thing down with a royal swig of bitter alcohol.

Slowly, he set down his glass and placed both hands on the counter to steady himself. There was no point in backing down now, the deed done, yet he couldn't help but let out a shaky breath as disbelief started to register with him at his own actions. Face paler than ever and suppressing a shiver, he closed his eyes and willed his breathing to calm down.

Looking up to regard Seifer's dumbstruck expression, his eyebrows furrowed into a slight crease as he pondered the question he could no longer put off. Almost managing an indifferent tone of voice, he asked, "...What do these do?"

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**A/N**: Loved it? Hated it? Review and let us know! :) (and we'll love you forever ;)) Thank you to everyone who's reviewed so far! And a special thanks to our wonderful beta Aerawyn.


	5. Falling In

**A/N**: Okay, so this is a long chapter. It totals at just under 15.000 words, so get a drink and get comfortable if you plan on reading it all in one go! Also, the rating has gone up from T to M, and for good reason (please reread the warnings at the beginning of chapter one). But enough with the warnings, on with the show :)

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**~ Chapter Five - Falling In**

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**[Seifer Almasy's Apartment, ****Zayin House, ****Thursday, ****16th of October, 2:29 am] **

"...What do these do?"

Entirely unable to believe his own eyes, Seifer almost choked on his drink. There was no way in hell Squall had just taken Avalanche. No fucking way. On instinct, he shot up from the couch, too shocked to sit still. A few seconds ticked by before he was able to school his rather undignified expression.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath as a huge grin spread across his face, pure amusement shining in his eyes. Realizing the night had just become infinitely more interesting, he sent Hyne a private thanks.

Chuckling softly, he walked over to where Squall stood, the move earning him a warning glare. Without another word he brushed past the man, reached into the drawer without hesitation, and pulled out the bag. Taking hold of a brightly colored pill, he turned to face the brunet and placed the piece of promised bliss in his mouth, swallowing it dry. Distracted by thoughts of how Avalanche would affect the younger man, he grinned mischievously, the idea of the ice prince kicking back and being stripped of his tightly held self-restraint far too amusing.

Following Seifer's every move, Squall's body tensed up as his eyes flitted over the small blue tablet disappearing behind the blond's lips. Somehow it felt like the simple act sealed a deal he wasn't sure he wanted to make. Seifer's obvious amusement at his question contrasted a bit too strongly with the man's previous contemplative musing, raising the suspicion he had played right into the ex-knight's hands.

Keeping his narrowed gaze fixed on the blond, he remained motionless and awaited Seifer's next move. Frowning at still not having received an answer and being left in the dark, he could only hope it was a sense of victory over roping him into an illegal act that had Seifer sizing him up in amusement, rather than the consequences of said act.

"You might feel slightly hot," Seifer said, deciding he'd dragged out his answer long enough.

Walking closer, intending to tease the younger man, he stopped mere inches away, but forgot his purpose when his eyes caught on long brown locks resting against pale cheeks. As his gaze traveled to Squall's lips, followed by an instinctive move to meet turbulent gray-blues, it became painfully obvious just how much he wanted the guy.

The night definitely wasn't going to be the plain sailing he'd imagined just seconds ago. It would be a minefield. A booby trap at every corner, ready to land him on his ass. Even without Avalanche, he had felt tempted to try his luck, the thought of being castrated on the spot the only thing keeping him in place. He could only hope that staying at a decent distance would keep them both out of harm's way.

"You'll feel amazing, Squall," he said in a low voice.

Caught off guard by Seifer's close proximity and tone of voice, Squall's reaction came too slowly when he averted his eyes from the blond's intense gaze. As he moved to put some distance between them, his eyebrows scrunched in annoyance.

Watching the reaction unfold, Seifer wasn't surprised. It was the only response he should have expected. Even so, it reminded him of exactly who and what they were and just how little right he had to play any games with Squall. Inwardly cringing at how easily he had forgotten that painful detail, he schooled his expression.

"Those," he began as he tilted his head in the direction of the remaining pills, "will make you forget about everything."

Eyebrows rising slightly at the statement, Squall doubted the existence of a drug potent enough to make him "forget." Even deities burrowing into his brain, feeding off his memories, hadn't managed the task in the end. But, whatever the drug's effect, be it a temporary dulling of unwanted memories or simply a night of no longer caring about what he _couldn't _forget, he'd welcome the reprieve.

Leaning back against the kitchen counter, Seifer placed his hands on the cold surface. As he thought back on nights in the past where he'd been under the drug's influence, his eyes grew unfocused. "You'll feel nothing but ecstasy," he said distantly, lost to introspection. "It's perfect."

Pushing himself away from the counter, he walked over to the couch. There wasn't really any way he could explain to Squall what the drug did; no words could.

_Perfect ecstasy_. As Seifer described it with absolute conviction, Squall felt increasingly uncomfortable. It was too vague an explanation to form a clear idea of what to expect, but apparently it wasn't something he would have much control over. Realizing the possible embarrassing implications of experiencing something like that in the ex-knight's presence fueled his apprehension, his previous determination short-lived and draining from his face. His only consolation was that the blond had taken a pill as well.

Not moving from his spot, he absentmindedly examined the condensation that had formed on the cold stone of the counter where his hands had been resting just a moment before. Not one to go back on a decision, definitely not in front of Seifer, he tried to quell his unease. He'd just have to ride it out and hope the effect would be what he needed. Shifting his gaze from the counter top to the tall blond, he willed himself to stay calm.

"How long before it kicks in?" he asked, his voice deceivingly neutral. Knowing when to expect the drug to start working would at least give him something to go by.

"Usually about half an hour," Seifer answered as he sat down on the couch. "Sometimes, maybe more," he added, turning his head in Squall's direction.

With a slight nod, Squall fell silent once more, at a loss for what to do. Half an hour was both too fast and not nearly fast enough. He wanted to get some kind of handle on the situation and assess what Seifer wanted from it all, but at the same time he didn't want the chance to consider what possible disaster he'd gotten himself into.

As the silence stretched on, Seifer watched Squall and began registering all the little details about the brunet that had changed. A few scars he didn't recognize were visible along the man's arms, as was to be expected. It was unavoidable considering what Squall had been up to. Not many weeks went by without Seifer's students regaling each other with the latest story about the SeeD Commander.

At first Seifer had tried hard to ignore such stories, the reminders of their shared past too painful. But as time went by, the stories had begun to draw his attention, until one day he found himself listening for any news about the stoic man. The last he had heard was Squall single-handedly taking down a giant cobra. Giant as in three fucking stories tall giant. He still didn't know how much to believe of the outrageous stories, but one thing was clear: Squall was still a SeeD and for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what brought a SeeD to Esthar, the place well enough protected by its own armed forces.

"What are you doing in Esthar?" he asked.

Gray-blue eyes grew distant in thought as Squall contemplated the question. Innocent as it seemed, revealing Esthar as his permanent place of residence was the kind of information he couldn't afford to place in the wrong hands. But here he was, at Seifer's apartment, the ex-knight having exposed his home to someone who could easily turn such knowledge against him.

"... I live here," he eventually replied, before walking up to the couch. Passing Seifer, he chose the spot furthest away from the blond and sat down. As he leaned back against soft cushioning, choppy bangs effectively obscured his eyes from view.

Irritated at Squall's answer, the statement not really explaining anything, just posing even more questions, Seifer's eyes narrowed slightly. "Aren't you still at B-Garden?"

"No... I moved here six months ago." Squall's answer came more reluctantly this time. "I still work for Garden."

Surprised at the information, Seifer barely acknowledged the brunet's words with a low hum. "Why Esthar?"

"That's none of your business," Squall deadpanned reflexively, cold dissuasion coming naturally as he drew a line for the blond not to cross. Within the short time it had taken Seifer to ask three simple questions, the blond had already managed to cut a bit too close to home. He wanted to put his sorceress out of his mind, not think back on when it had all started to go downhill.

Seifer's expression turned grim. Squall might never have been the most sociable of guys, but refusing to answer a simple question did nothing but rile Seifer up. "Yeah, whatever..." he let out resentfully, not masking his disdain for the brunet's words.

Tilting his head sideways to peer at the blond, Squall realized he was coming dangerously close to ruining the fragile balance that had kept things civil thus far.

"I just don't want to talk about it ..." he said, the attempt to convey his dislike of the topic in a less harsh manner dying on his lips as he angled his face away again.

Disliking the evasive dismissal just as much as the previous words, Seifer tried hard to keep his cool. He just couldn't understand what the hell Squall's problem was. It had been the brunet who had wanted to talk in the first place, only to prove just as reluctant and unwilling to say anything beyond the stunted sentences he had always been a master of.

"You know, if you want I can call you a cab. You might make it home before the effects set in," he spoke bitterly, before turning his head away from Squall, knowing that the urge to punch the brunet would only increase if he kept looking at the guy.

At the offer he knew wasn't meant as a friendly suggestion, Squall's stomach knotted in a mix of confusing emotions. As difficult as their encounter had been so far, he couldn't leave now. He couldn't go back to the penthouse, knowing he'd messed up his one chance to have his answers. All that awaited him there were empty rooms and dark thoughts trapped in the confines of his mind.

For once he felt certain that solitude wouldn't help him collect his poise and settle the growing pit in his stomach. He couldn't be sure that the blond would still be there the following day and the thought that it would end this way was something he couldn't accept. After this night, there was no way he'd be able to put the ghosts of his past behind locks and bars a second time. They'd spill out into his thoughts and he'd dream again. He didn't want to leave. He had nowhere to go apart from an unwelcoming room rented for the night or a scarcely lit train platform with no trains arriving until morning.

"...I _can't _go home right now."

The statement escaped his lips reluctantly, a tentative voicing of something that had run its roots deeply and shouldn't have been voiced. Dark eyebrows drew together as he realized the strained quality to his own voice and just how detached he'd become from that one word. _Home_. He could no longer relate to it. It held no meaning anymore and he wondered when that had happened. He felt sure he'd understood it at some point or else he wouldn't be experiencing the sudden sense of loss.

Attention caught by the weird response, Seifer promptly turned his head back to study the younger man. He hadn't expected a comment like that. As his thoughts returned to the events that had taken place earlier that night, it became glaringly obvious that Rinoa and Squall were still a couple. Why else would Squall not want to return home, if not because of Rinoa's presence there?

Vaguely registering an unfamiliar pang of jealousy, he did his best to ignore it, fully aware of just how misplaced it was. Really, what business was it of his if they were together or not, or had relationship troubles for that matter? Yet his lips curled downwards in distaste on their own volition. Annoyed that he'd become stuck in the position of a fucking couple's therapist, he averted his gaze.

"...Ooookay," he spoke in derision, drawing out the word to underline his contempt.

Thoughts of a loss that had gone by unnoticed were abruptly cut short and stolen away, the single word uttered in plain loathing sending inexplicable pinpricks of hurt through Squall's chest. Turning to look at the blond, brow scrunched in confusion at the attitude Seifer was giving him, all that greeted him was a harsh stare directed at the far wall, far away from him, and the realization that he'd overstayed his welcome in yet another person's home.

He felt those roots dig a bit deeper, make it just a bit colder and yet all the easier to do as the blond had asked. He should've known that things would pan out this way; they always did. "This was a mistake," he said quietly as he pushed up from the couch, unable to keep the rejection he felt from lacing the statement spoken in parting.

The relief Seifer had felt at hearing Squall rise from the couch was short lived, the strange quality to the man's voice pulling him from his grim thoughts. When the dark of Squall's jeans entered his vision, the man clearly about to leave, he couldn't stop himself. Before he'd even registered what he was doing, the word "stay" had left his lips and his hand had traveled to Squall's thigh to try and prevent the man from leaving.

Everything had been so much easier when pissing Squall off to a degree where the guy would simply walk off meant nothing more than having to wait until the following day to pester the brunet all over again. If Squall left now, he would never see the guy again and despite the resentment he had felt only moments before, he wasn't ready for that.

Confused and effectively halted in his path, Squall stepped away from the touch against his leg and turned to face Seifer. Green eyes were fixed on him, the blond's expression unreadable and not giving away what had brought about the sudden change of heart. Though he didn't understand Seifer's reason, he didn't need to, to understand the offer.

_Stay_.

Unable to completely shake his wariness after such complete aversion to his presence, he only allowed himself a cautious kind of relief. He knew he should probably leave, but he remained rooted in place by Seifer's unyielding gaze. With each second that ticked by, his resolve to leave weakened, the prospect of what waited for him outside Seifer's apartment discouraging him further.

There was a familiarity to the feel and scents of Seifer's apartment that compelled him to stay. It brought him back to days spent sparring, too long ago. It reminded him of borrowing oil to clean gunblade parts that didn't have a scratch on them yet and of even longer ago, when the two of them had escaped from the rest of their excursion group in Deling City to go check out the newest gunblade models in a local weapon shop.

Watching Seifer watching him, absorbing the strange atmosphere of the moment, he sat down on the coffee table, across from Seifer.

Struck by the surrealism of the moment, Seifer kept his eyes on Squall. After so long and everything that had happened between them, to have Squall in his apartment, sitting on his coffee table no less, seemed like the unlikeliest of encounters. He almost snorted at the notion, easily recalling the part of the evening that had been even more unlikely: Squall taking Avalanche. Feeling a smile threaten to break free, knowing he had been the one to lure the prim and proper ice prince into such an act, he instead remembered the reason he'd offered it in the first place: Rinoa.

Recalling the disdain he'd expressed only minutes earlier, behavior that had almost driven Squall away, he realized the drug was setting in. It always began that way. He'd lose track of his thoughts and his moods would change only to mellow out and make him unable to hold on to anything unpleasant. He still hadn't moved his eyes from Squall, his gaze unwavering as he kept studying the brunet.

But then his eyes strayed, more intrigued by the longer brown locks that framed Squall's face. Somehow he had never imagined the guy actually changing, his mind having frozen the brunet into boyish youth. All the subtle changes he hadn't had time to spot back at the club now became evident: the hardened lines to Squall's face, the more self-assured set to gray-blue eyes, the way Squall held himself. If anything, maturity made the man even more irresistible. There was nothing better than bringing a guy to bed who had the strength to challenge him, being on top all the sweeter when he didn't have to care about being too rough. Starting to feel hot, his train of thought not helping things, he ran a finger under the collar of his shirt.

Watching as long fingers tampered with black fabric, the sight painting a phantom tightness around his own neck, Squall kept his hands from wandering and mimicking the slight motion. Instead he dropped them to the coffee table, his palms pressing flat against the surface. Slowly he slid them back across stained wood, his fingers spread wide to better feel the rich texture.

Tracing the grains and indentations along the surface of the table with careful fingertips, he tipped his head to the side, his eyes following the path he was drawing on the wood with a vague sense of fascination. The coffee table at the penthouse held no such ridges, bumps, or stains, its lines all glass and metal. Not everything in the penthouse was like that, sleek and without texture, but somehow it was all empty anyway. None of it carried any real meaning to him. He wondered if maybe Rinoa had sensed it too, the creeping feel of walls closing in, the lack of air. Somehow he knew she wouldn't return there, not after tonight, not after everything that had happened between them.

Reminded of the events at the club, his thoughts jumped back to the whirling torrent of anger and hurt Rinoa had assaulted him with mere hours ago and her declaration that he was no longer needed. Now, though, he felt like he was standing in the eye of the storm, no longer swept along in its lashing winds, merely an onlooker of events that no longer seemed to matter.

If anything, he felt strangely relieved. He wouldn't have to face those dark, hazel eyes anymore, their gaze solemn and dissatisfied as they searched for something that wasn't there. Even though he knew she wouldn't ever be at the penthouse again, the thought didn't upset him nearly as much as it should. His apprehension at having to return to that emptiness was fading already. He couldn't really hold on to the distant echo of void rooms and bare walls when everything about Seifer's apartment _wasn't _empty.

His hand paused at a smoother patch of wood, where a stain of oil had soaked into the wood, his sensitive fingers curling and uncurling against the warm surface of the table. Or was it his hands that were warm? Dismissing the stray thought, he tore his gaze away from the particularly large and elaborately shaped stain and tilted his head to the side, before training unreadable gray-blue eyes on the blond sitting in front of him. Hands resting against tarnished wood, he could now feel tangible heat spreading throughout his fingers, up his arms and flooding his body; like roots sucking up warm, warm water.

"I think I'm starting to feel hot," he stated plainly as he brought up a hand to press against flushed cheeks, the heat beginning to swell into pleasant waves, fast and hot, coursing through him. Seifer had mentioned this, he suddenly remembered, which meant the Avalanche was starting to set in. But the realization failed to impress anything more than a slight jolt of apprehension, the moment quickly washed away again with another wave of heat.

Seifer didn't need to hear Squall's words to understand that the man was affected by Avalanche, the way the brunet's hand was pressed to a flushed cheek much more telling. He knew exactly what Squall was experiencing, how everything suddenly caused unfamiliar tingles to run along your skin and set your every nerve on fire. He knew how everything that usually appeared mundane suddenly became the most fascinating thing in the world, but most of all, he knew how even the slightest of touches could feel madly arousing.

Unable to stop his eyes from continuing a trail down the brunet's chest, he didn't even try to fight the urge. Any previous concerns slowly disappeared to the back of his mind. He couldn't hold on to them, their mere memories dissipating into thin mist, leaving nothing but the thought that he really needed to see Squall, just _see _the man and nothing else. As his eyes moved back to regard gray-blues, he distantly realized his thoughts were leading him astray. The sight was too much and Squall was _right there_. All he had to do was lean forward. He could almost imagine Squall's reluctant lips against his own and feel the press of Squall's chest against his hands as he forced the smaller man onto the coffee table.

Possessing just enough sense to realize his mind was treading dangerous ground, he reluctantly closed his eyes in an effort to put an end to his straying thoughts, but the seductive imagery of the man before him wouldn't disappear. As a familiar throb settled in his groin, he leaned his head back to rest softly against the couch, a small crease of pleasure forming on his brow.

Slumped into a position of complete relaxation, he spread his legs farther apart and moved his hands to lie at his sides on the couch. With the image of Squall still clear in his mind, he let out an almost inaudible moan as he focused on the feel of the fabric of his pants moving against his sensitive skin. At the satisfying friction, his body froze up, his grip tightening against the couch.

Taking a deep breath, he willed his less than pure thoughts to go away and slowly opened his eyes to look at Squall through heavy lidded eyes, his fingers still tingling from their innocent press against the fabric of the couch. It was hard to suppress the urges the sight in front of him inspired. He wanted to touch Squall badly, but he knew he had to restrain himself. Mustering every last ounce of self-control, he pushed his desire aside. He could do this; he could let Squall enjoy Avalanche.

Returning the blond's gaze in curiosity, Squall let his hand drop back onto the table's surface and released a deep breath. Seifer's relaxed moves and the subtle twitches to the man's expression told him the blond was experiencing the same waves of heat he was. The waves were becoming increasingly hot, burning his cheeks a darkening red hue, rolling through him faster and faster.

Placing steadying hands on the table, he languidly started to stretch his neck and limbs, working the kinks out of rigid muscles and shedding the tension that had crept into his body during the day. It helped channel some of the heat, tempering it. With every soothing rush of warmth and pleasantly aching stretch, he felt a bit lighter, a little more unburdened. A look of contentment began taking over his flushed features as he arched his back slightly to flex his spine and shoulders.

Watching as the brunet's hand dropped back to the table, Seifer felt calmness replace his earlier desire. As Squall started to loosen up and relax, no strained atmosphere or harsh words between them, he couldn't help but feel strangely satisfied, and a lazy smile emerged on his lips. Just watching Squall unwind was enough for him, his indecent thoughts receding to the back of his mind.

When the last vestiges of tired stiffness had flowed from his body, Squall leaned his head backwards and stared at the ceiling unblinkingly for a while. He couldn't identify the feeling that grew in the pit of his stomach. The sound of his heartbeat was thundering in his ears. The heat was becoming too much, the room too cramped when his mind felt unbridled, free like wide grasslands stretching out endlessly. The odd sensation swelled until it filled him completely, until he felt like he would burst if he didn't move and _breathe_.

Tilting his head to scan the room around him, his brow furrowed slightly at not finding a single window when he desperately needed air. Without warning, he pushed up from the coffee table and walked towards the door Seifer had disappeared behind when they had first arrived at the apartment. There had to be a window somewhere.

Observing the brunet's movement, Seifer arched an eyebrow in curiosity, puzzled at why Squall was heading into his bedroom. Getting up from the couch, he followed the man.

Once inside the bedroom, Seifer stopped in his tracks as his eyes traveled to the brunet. Squall hadn't noticed his presence yet; he just stood by the window, leaning out into the chill night air, a fresh breeze playing with dark strands of hair. The brunet's whole body was set aglow with electric blue light emanating from the street lighting and buildings outside. Watching as Squall closed his eyes and took a deep breath, Seifer felt himself relax. A small smile grew on his lips; this was what he had wanted when he had suggested Avalanche.

Unaware of the blond's gaze on him, Squall focused on the play of the wind caressing his face. The chill of the autumn air had taken the edge off the stifling heat, his mind now wandering out into the wide vastness of a hazy, starless sky. Only on the 9th floor, the window didn't reach high enough to oversee the vast expanse of the city, taller buildings blocking the horizon. The view differed greatly from the one at the penthouse, not towering from above but looking up from beneath, amidst an ocean of lights and neon flickering.

It strangely reminded him of the deep sea research center, where mere glass had separated him from dark blue waters, dotted with luminescent schools of fish and electric bright jelly fish drifting by. For a moment the surreal images overlapped, but a distant honk of a car broke the illusion. A smile tugged at his lips at the thought of a moon jelly swimming past Seifer's window when he remembered the blond's dislike of the creatures ever since the boy had stepped on one at the orphanage. Softly shaking his head at the memory, he let his gaze roam the surrounding buildings.

A few shadows traveled past dimly lit windows in the distance, but most apartments of the neighboring buildings were cast in darkness. Leaning out a bit farther to better feel the currents of wind, he soaked in the peace of the night, drawing it in with every breath. The remote sounds of city nightlife had melted together in a soothing background lull, calming the hammer of his heart and slowing his breathing. Oddly connected to what he saw, smelled, and heard, he didn't feel the sense of isolation and loneliness he usually experienced when watching over the vast metropolis. All he felt was calm.

Still watching from his position by the door, Seifer took a step farther into the room. As another gust of wind took hold of Squall's hair, he imagined the breeze rushing against his own skin and shivered in satisfaction. Overheating was one of the primary side effects of Avalanche, but it was a small price to pay for the escape the drug presented. Thoughts of standing under the cold spray of his shower, every cool droplet of liquid dousing the hot fire playing beneath his skin, made his whole body tingle in remembered pleasure.

"I sometimes take a cold shower when the heat becomes too much," he spoke softly, breaking the silence.

At the low timbre sounding from behind him, starting him from his thoughts, Squall glanced over his shoulder. Gaze landing on the blond, he slowly turned around to fully face the man, a small smile gracing his lips.

"I think I like it better this way," he answered quietly, a breathy quality to his voice. "The wind feels nice."

All shields seemed to have vanished from gray-blue eyes as Seifer kept watching the brunet. The uncertain edge to Squall's behavior had finally lifted and with it some of the man's tightly held control and restraint, the slight upwards curl to pale lips betraying as much.

"Well, then you should enjoy it," Seifer said warmly as he walked over to the bed, not wanting to disturb Squall. He would let Squall enjoy the moment. Breaking eye contact, he lowered himself onto the soft white sheets and stretched out on his back. Locking his hands behind his head, he gazed up at the ceiling, complete relaxation spreading throughout his body.

Pulled from his fascination with the city, Squall watched as Seifer made himself comfortable on the bed. Taking in the blond's relaxed position, the man completely at ease in his presence, he felt content. As his eyes traveled the profile of his one-time rival, he allowed himself to indulge in a detailed study of familiar features and lingered on the slanted scar he'd cut there himself. He could still clearly remember how easily his gunblade had slit open skin, bright red blooming on the blond's forehead in a mirror image of his own wound. He didn't regret it, nor did he regret the moment of inattentiveness that had cost him his own scar. When everything else about his sparring partner had become mere memories, at least the scar had still been tangible and real.

Gaze moving back to take in a very real Seifer reclined on a bed in an apartment that clearly had been the blond's for a while, Squall wondered how long the man had lived there to imprint such a distinct feel onto the place, how long the man had been practically right under his nose.

"Have you been here all this time?"

Listening to the softly spoken question, Seifer thought back to his first months in Esthar. As images formed in his mind, he was unable to hold onto them, the brief glimpses into the past disappearing just as quickly as they came into existence.

"Almost," he said before moving his eyes away from Squall to rest on the ceiling. "It seemed like a good place to go."

Squall wasn't sure what to make of the brief reply. He hadn't come to Esthar because it had "seemed like a good place," but out of necessity. He'd never taken a liking to the large city, never lingered, and wondered why Seifer had. But no elaboration followed, the blond drifting off again. Frowning at his inability to keep the conversation going, Seifer clearly more interested in silent relaxation, Squall quietly hoisted himself onto the windowsill and watched with mild interest as the blond started to fiddle with his collar again.

Seifer was beginning to overheat badly, his skin feeling as if it was on fire. The room felt increasingly stifling, the air almost suffocating. He could no longer bear it, his fingers tugging at his collar reflexively. As he moved to sit up on the bed, his hands worked to undo the buttons of his shirt, leaving smooth fabric to pool at his sides. Instantly rewarded with cool air sliding against his hot skin, he returned to a pose of relaxation, his eyes closing to better focus on the sensation. Running a hand through his hair, he inhaled deeply and let his mind drift away with the evening breeze.

Frown deepening a little when the short bout of activity died down again, the blond not saying a word nor looking his way, Squall almost let a sigh escape. If anything, it seemed like Seifer was perfectly content to leave him to his own devices, intent on moving as little as possible. Briefly, he entertained the thought of roughly shaking the man into action. He wanted to do something, anything, but he couldn't bring himself to disturb the blond, not when he seemed so utterly at peace.

Fingers fidgeting with a loose thread sticking out of the hem of his T-shirt, he let his gaze travel the room in an absentminded study, but the room held little that could hold his interest for long and eventually his eyes gravitated back to silent figure at the centre of it all.

Vaguely annoyed at Seifer's inactivity, he closed his eyes in an attempt to reclaim the soothing calm he'd experienced just moments before, but all he could hear was the loud contrast between Seifer's slow breathing and the quickening drum of his own heartbeat. That feeling of unbridled energy, ready to break free, started to swell again and coiled wildly within the constraints of heated skin and itching muscles.

He couldn't sit still any longer. Sliding down from the windowsill, his feet failed to carry him away, solid walls keeping him in check. No amount of aimless pacing managed to soothe his mounting agitation, his mouth becoming drier and his pulse more rampant with every step. Eyes darting to the blond, he was greeted by a picture of perfect, oblivious calm. Forgetting his decision not to disturb Seifer, he walked up to the bed and looked down at the dozing man in exasperation.

"How can you lie still like that?"

Opening his eyes and turning to lie on his side to better study the brunet, Seifer was surprised to find Squall standing right next to the bed. Knowing all too well what was causing Squall to act the way he was, he couldn't suppress his mirth and smirked at the brunet's predicament. He'd had times like that whilst on Avalanche as well; times where he'd been full of excess energy and the drive to just do _something_.

"Feeling restless there, Squall?" he teased.

Fixed with an expectant gaze in reply, no answer given, Seifer realized he had to help the other man understand what was happening. It had come as no surprise that Squall didn't know what Avalanche was; he couldn't really imagine the man having had any experience with drugs.

"Just focus on what you're feeling," he said in an effort to explain, hoping it would help ease Squall's restlessness, just like the feel of the duvet beneath him and the flow of the autumn wind against his skin was all that filled his own mind. All other thoughts simply drifted away.

Turning to lie on his back once more, he sank further into the bed and languidly made himself comfortable. With one hand resting on his stomach, just above the waistline of his pants, he enjoyed the warm press it exerted on his skin. A low rumbling sound of pleasure left him as he moved his other hand to rest at the back of his neck. Closing his eyes, he forgot all about time and place.

At the completely useless advice, the blond entirely unbothered, a frustrated sigh spilled from Squall's lips. Sitting himself down on the bed, on the side nearest to the open window and flowing air, he fisted white cotton sheets in an attempt to distract himself from the prickling itch that crawled through each of his fingers and infected his entire body. He _couldn't _focus on it. If he did, it would burn him to a cinder. Eyes glazing over at the effort it took him to dam in the assault of raw sensations, he pushed his next words past reluctant lips. "… It's not that easy."

Not understanding the vague, panic-edged words, Seifer immediately pushed himself up into a sitting position and moved closer to Squall, the man's tone of voice pulling his mind straight out of relaxation and into worry.

"Hey..." he said softly, wanting to calm the brunet. Placing a hand at the man's wrist to get his attention and to show his sincerity, he spoke his next words carefully. "Take a deep breath."

The touch against his wrist was too sudden, Squall's skin and nerves tingling hot at the simple contact. His entire mind singled in on the feeling, his gaze coming back into focus as he found himself staring into concerned eyes. Doing as instructed, he inhaled and exhaled deeply a few times, but the air between them was too thick to fill his lungs. Green eyes monopolized his line of sight, their poison spreading fast and rushing through his veins, heightening his awareness of Seifer.

Releasing a shaky breath, he let himself recline into the soft pillows lined up by the headboard, hands still grabbing on to the white fabric by his sides. Eyes turbulent, he looked at Seifer in unrest.

"It's not helping," he said quietly, his voice strained. "... I feel so..."

Unable to put words to what exactly it was he was feeling, he fell silent. Scrunching his eyes closed, he hoped to drown out at least one of his senses.

Concern increasing further, Seifer moved to rest on his knees next to Squall and leaned in to better study the man's expression.

"You feel so _what_?" he asked as he placed a hand on the bed for support, next to one of Squall's shoulders. Watching as the rise and fall of the brunet's chest only seemed to quicken, shallow breaths coming in hard and fast, he knew he had to do something.

"Look at me," he demanded, not liking Squall's reaction one bit. "Focus," he added firmly, bringing his right hand up to rest on the brunet's shoulder in a steadying hold, wanting to root him in reality.

The large hand squeezing his shoulder sent a pleasant shiver through Squall's body, the sensation fusing dangerously with the feel of Seifer's warm breath caressing his face. All he could focus on was how _close _the blond was, the man's presence overwhelming and impossible to escape. Turning his face away from the other, needing to put some distance between them, he whispered almost pleadingly, "You're too close."

The relief he felt as the grip on his shoulder loosened was immediately dispelled as Seifer's hand traveled along his chest to rest at his waist instead. Jaws clenching as the touch seared a path against his skin, he couldn't fight the charge of excitement that coursed through him.

"Tell me what's wrong, Squall."

At the gentle prompt, Squall forgot why he had looked away in the first place and found himself drowning in green eyes again. Swallowing thickly, he hesitantly moved his fingers to brush past the hand that was pressed to his side. "Everything... is so intense."

Unable to suppress the massive grin that spread on his lips, Seifer let out a low chuckle, understanding finally dawning. It was all too easy to imagine the dispassionate man habitually suppressing any sensual stimuli; of course Squall would be the only guy to be confused by pleasure.

"It's okay..." he spoke reassuringly, "That's what the pills are supposed to do."

It was in that moment that the reality of their situation struck him. He had _Squall _lying in his bed, right in front of him. Not a fantasy but oh so real. He itched to touch the brunet; to let his hands roam the body he had fantasized about so many times. He couldn't stop his hand from venturing under Squall's shirt, his fingers spreading against the man's soft skin and already tingling from the simple contact.

When Seifer's hand began caressing his oversensitive skin, a soft moan left Squall's parted lips. Unprepared for such a move, he was lost to the blond's gentle touches, his stomach flexing beneath the man's fingers. Brow creasing in pleasure, perplexing arousal spread out from everywhere Seifer's touch met his skin. "Hn... This... is _supposed _to happen?" he managed uncertainly, disbelief coloring his words.

Humming lowly in response, Seifer moved his hand farther up Squall's chest, exposing pale skin in the process. At the sight of the man's stomach tensing in response to his touches, his eyes darted back to the brunet's face. Every little sign and twitch that betrayed Squall was slowly succumbing to pleasure sent rushes of blood straight to his groin. He needed to feel more of Squall against him. Forcing his knee in between the man's thighs, he pressed closer until he was covering the man, the gratifying friction causing him to let out a low moan.

Startled by the sudden weight pinning him to the bed and the heat emanating from the blond's body, Squall began squirming halfheartedly and placed his hands against Seifer's chest in an attempt to create some distance. "What are you... doing..." he uttered in between pants, the feel of the blond's body pressing into his own making it impossible to string together a decent sentence.

Seifer didn't register Squall's weak signs of protest for long moments, entirely too caught up in the feel of having the smaller man pressed against him. Quickly catching Squall's lower arms, he pressed them into the bedding, forcibly stilling the man's moves; he wasn't about to give up their close contact.

Locking his gaze with Squall's, he lowered himself to be fully molded against the man. As he inched closer, he stole a glimpse of pale lips in anticipation of what he was about to do. At the slight twitch to fine eyebrows, the move betraying Squall's confusion, what was left of his patience abandoned him. The last he saw before pressing his lips to Squall's was the slight widening of gray-blues.

Even as Seifer's mouth descended on his, Squall's mind lagged behind. Lying paralyzed under the effect of the blond's kiss, the act not yet registering as such, his body's reaction came long before any understanding did. Half-formed thoughts of resistance bled from him as hot lips pressed against his own, nipping and coaxing his mouth open with ease. The fading spice to Seifer's strong cologne was invading his senses, the man's warm weight crowding him, but most of all it was the throaty rumble of a moan that lit a fuse deep within him, the sound vibrating through Seifer's chest and spilling into their kiss.

Distantly he realized it shouldn't be acceptable for the blond to touch him in such a way, but he couldn't help himself from reciprocating Seifer's slow paced kiss, each nip and press of moist lips drawing a clumsy countermove from him in return. Revulsion simply failed to form in his mind when all he could feel was arousal, slowly pulling him under.

As he continued kissing Squall, Seifer moved his hands from their constraining hold on the man's slim arms to roam the body beneath him instead. He had imagined touching the brunet so many times, but nothing came close to the reality of having the man pressed against him, willing.

Withdrawing his hips slightly, he paused for a fraction of a second before grinding himself against Squall. At the breathless moan that left the brunet's lips in response, he eagerly repeated the move.

Soon feeling frustrated at the barrier of clothing still between them, he broke their kiss and leaned back to quickly get rid of their shirts. Finding no resistance to what he was doing, he immediately lowered himself to recapture the brunet's lips.

Mimicking the blond's touches, Squall returned the kiss and tentatively brought up his hands to rest at Seifer's sides, registering how ribs expanded with every breath, how well trained obliques and lower back muscles contracted and relaxed as Seifer resumed his rough grinds.

Everything about the body on top of him was unmistakably _male_. In spite of the lack of stubble, he could clearly feel the roughness of Seifer's skin against his own as he was kissed forcefully. The warm musk of the blond's scent was heavy, more_ real _and intoxicating than lavender perfume would ever be. The hard bulge of Seifer's arousal rubbed against him just right. Unaccustomed to such mind numbing onslaught, his lips slackened to give way to a deep groan.

As large hands roamed his body, their caress just as greedy as the blond's thrusts, Squall sank deeper and deeper, under a thick haze consisting solely of purposeful movement and the burning ache that drove it. On their own accord, his hips arched up from the bed to meet the steadily escalating rhythm of Seifer's grinds.

Returning the blond's skillful play of lips and tongue required a more conscious effort, his mouth stilling in brief surprise each time Seifer swirled his tongue in an interesting new way: along his palate, against the back of his tongue, underneath it, just below the curve of his bottom lip. The slow, hard suck enveloping the tip of his tongue sent aching need straight to his groin, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. He'd never been touched like that before, had never _let _anyone touch him like that before.

The way hitches of breath left Squall's lips and spilled into their kiss was making Seifer unbearably hard. The slight flush staining high cheekbones and the way gray-blue eyes looked at him when they weren't closed in pleasure didn't help. Groaning, he sped up his moves, his thrusts growing more impatient by the second.

The incessant stimulation quickly became too much for Squall to handle, his body shivering uncontrollably beneath the blond. Swept up by Seifer's intensity, forceful grinding racing him towards his end, he was mounting higher and higher and dangling off a cliff all at the same time, only a free fall away from what he craved. _Push me_, he felt more than thought, driving short nails deeper into Seifer's shoulders, his arousal throbbing achingly against the coarse material of dark jeans. Turning his head sideways to break away from the blond's hungry mouth, he bit down on his bottom lip harshly, his flushed features starting to contort in ecstasy.

Catching on too late, Seifer slowed down his thrusts to draw out Squall's orgasm. Increasing the pressure of his hips, he let his mouth trail down the taut muscles of the man's neck, slowly sucking, licking, and kissing his way down pale skin. As Squall's hands grabbed hold of his back firmly, seeking better purchase, he tightened his own hold and let out a deep groan when Squall eagerly rolled his hips against him.

The white-edged burn of ecstasy shocked through Squall violently, blurring his vision and drawing a muffled cry from his lips. After convulsing a few times beneath Seifer's hard body in orgasm, he went limp in the man's hold, his arms dropping to the bedcovers and his lips parting to take in a deep, tremulous breath.

Unable to resist the urge, Seifer leant down to place a soft kiss on Squall's lips. Seeing Squall lose himself in such a way left him incredibly turned on. He couldn't wait to have the guy naked beneath him. Pushing back, eager for more, he moved his hands to work on Squall's belt, his eyes unable to break away from the look of post-orgasmic bliss on the brunet's features.

Squall merely regarded Seifer absentmindedly and remained idle against the white sheets, still lost to the afterglow of his climax. Heart hammering in his chest, heavy satisfaction weighed down his limbs, but he'd never felt lighter. Unfamiliar warmth washed over him as he followed Seifer's slow movements and allowed the tugging at his clothes.

Once Seifer had successfully removed Squall's belt, he quickly loosened the man's jeans and pulled them down along with Squall's boxers, only halting when he reached black combat boots. Moments later everything was lying scattered on the bedroom floor, completely forgotten as his eyes traveled Squall's naked body.

The sight was without doubt the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. All lean muscle and pale skin, the come still clinging to dark curls and Squall's soft length only added to the perfection. Sliding his hands up lean things, about to pull the brunet closer, he heard Squall call out his name, the utterance soft and short, demanding his attention.

Successfully luring jade eyes into meeting his gaze, Squall felt a pleasant buzz of warmth spread throughout him at the sight of the fire within their depths, burning for _him_. He didn't want to let go of that warmth yet, needing to feel more of it. _Wanted and wanting. _It left his chest aching, an almost painful need driving his stomach in knots and his hands to Seifer's chest. Eyes warm, he pulled the blond down for a kiss, lips and fingers seeking to close all distance remaining between them.

Seifer's jaw slackened in surprise as Squall drew him closer, the brunet's soft lips coaxing his own into returning the kiss. His mind stilled for long moments, buzzing from the intimate contact. Placing a hand against Squall's neck, sliding it upwards slowly, he moved his thumb to caress the younger man's cheek. Minutes passed before he finally broke away to gaze deeply into gray-blues, idly moving his hand from Squall's cheek to the man's side instead.

Squall didn't shy away from the blond's close scrutiny. Without disdain or hatred polluting green eyes, he _liked_ the way Seifer was looking at him. He felt relief at being _seen _again, instead of just registering as another enemy on the blond's hit list, but more so, he felt relief at no longer seeing demons in Seifer's gaze. As gentle hands stroked his sensitive skin, their calloused touch almost ticklish against his ribs, the profound belief that things would be all right caused a small smile to tug at the corners of his lips.

The rare smile that greeted Seifer rooted him in place. A bittersweet feeling stirred in him at the sight, almost threatening to free the memories that had been temporarily dulled and forgotten, but the tightness in his chest soon passed and a mirroring smile emerged on his lips instead. Indulging in the unexpected moment of tranquility, he committed the image to memory.

Pushing away slightly, he scanned the bed for Squall's shirt. Taking hold of it, he used it to clean up the sticky mess still clinging to pale skin. Squall didn't protest the move, merely peered up at him from beneath drooping eyelids as he finished the task and moved his hands to work on his own pants. With his fly soon undone, he pushed his hands beneath the soft material of his boxers and took hold of his cock.

When it finally sank in what Seifer was doing, Squall started from his daze, his eyes widening slightly as his gaze fell to the blond's large erection. The surface of his calm cracking, excitement welling up from beneath, he instantly remembered the hot press of Seifer's body, a thrilling visual layer now added to what he'd previously only felt.

At the sight of Seifer handling himself, seated between his legs, his cheeks flushed a deep red. Entranced by rippling muscles and heavy breaths, a searing gaze underlining it all, the mere thought of pushing Seifer over the edge was enough to rekindle his own arousal.

Giving in to the pleasure his hand was causing, Seifer closed his eyes, but in the end it wasn't enough: it wasn't Squall's touch. Removing his pants, he dropped them to the floor along with his shoes before looking back up at Squall, his gaze immediately drawn to the man's renewed erection. Seeing the evidence of the brunet's arousal, he hooked his hands under Squall's legs and forcefully pulled the man's ass to his groin.

Unprepared for the rushed movement that forced him onto Seifer's lap, Squall jolted apprehensively at the feel of the blond's cock sliding between the cleft of his buttocks. Only just introduced to the almost intimidating sight of the naked blond, the smooth heat of Seifer's length settling against him in such an intimate place caused his pulse to erupt in fast beats, both in surprise and uncertain anticipation. Eyes closing, he bit down on his lower lip to keep from making a sound, not sure whether he should betray such a touch felt good.

Without warning Seifer moved his hand to close around Squall's cock and set a slow pace as he began stroking the man. Placing his other hand firmly at the base, he trailed his fingers down to cup the man's balls and began massaging them as he kept up his slow rhythmic pumping. When pale lips parted and dark eyebrows drew together in pleasure, Squall's breathing quickly becoming labored, he slid his left hand down to tease the sensitive skin below.

As Squall grew harder in his hold, he licked his lips and moved back a little before bending down to take the tip of the brunet's cock into his mouth. Swirling his tongue around the rim of the sensitive head, he savored the taste. At the gasp that left the brunet in response, he looked up just in time to see gray-blue eyes snapping open in surprise. Keeping his gaze locked with Squall's, he closed his lips firmly around the man's hot shaft before taking in more of the man's length.

The feel of warm lips wrapped around him tightly instantly chased away any remaining coherence from Squall's thoughts, the notion that Seifer should not have his mouth anywhere near his crotch vanishing as the slippery movement and slightly rough texture of the blond's tongue wrung a muffled cry from his throat.

Smirking in satisfaction at the reaction, Seifer distanced himself, the move leaving Squall's cock to slap wetly against his stomach. Enjoying the sight, he had to resist his urge to give Squall a full-on blow job.

"Hold on," he said, moving from his spot between Squall's legs to get out a bottle of lube from the left bedside table. Back in place within seconds, he took hold of the brunet's cock once more and pushed slender legs farther apart.

The sudden drizzle of a cold substance against his crack was the only warning Squall received before warm fingers smeared the lubricant against his entrance. When a single digit started to nudge past the clamping ring of muscle, he couldn't restrain the strangled sound erupting from his lips, his breath hitching in discomfort at the probing finger.

"Squall," Seifer intoned, his voice firm as he tried to draw the brunet's attention. When their eyes met, he tightened his grip around Squall's cock and slowed down his pumping to draw out each pleasurable tug. "Relax."

"It'll feel good," he continued, eager to coax the man into surrendering to his touch. "I promise."

Finding reassurance in the unwavering quality to Seifer's voice, Squall's apprehension at the invading touch slowly faded, the continued petting of his arousal managing to distract him from the finger that forced itself into his body. Seifer hadn't lied to him; everything the man had done so far had felt amazing. Certain that the blond wouldn't disappoint, desperately wanting to experience the full extent of his touch, Squall drew a tremulous breath and gave a small nod.

Smirking, Seifer sent a sly wink and continued to prepare the brunet until the man was panting heavily beneath his touch. Adding another finger, he waited for the man's tight hole to adapt before stretching it further. Turned on by the sight of the brunet's hips tentatively moving into his touch, he closed his eyes and let out a deep groan. Releasing his hold on Squall's erection, he moved his hand to coat his own arousal in slick lube instead.

When the touch hungry fingers roving Squall's body suddenly retracted, a low sound of protest escaped him. Cracking open heavy eyelids to see what had made the blond stop, he took in the sight of Seifer lost to pleasuring himself, before his eyes fell to the man's straining erection. Realization dawning on him all at once, his pulse soared with arousal and trepidation as he tried to imagine what it would feel like to have something that large breach him.

Seifer had to stifle a groan at the sight that greeted him when he opened his eyes. Squall was staring at his erection with rapt attention. With a low growl he hooked his hands beneath Squall's knees and pushed the man's legs upwards. Using his weight to press into the smaller man, he nudged his erection against the brunet's entrance, eager to feel the man's tight heat surround him.

Covering Squall's lips with his own, he transferred all the lust that had built up inside him into their kiss and increased the pressure of his cock against the man's entrance. When he felt Squall lose himself to the act as well, he ended their kiss and moved his head back to leave an inch of tension filled air between them. Seeing nothing but desire mirrored in gray-blues, Squall's gaze urging him on, he forced himself inside.

For a mind choking second, the searing heat that spread throughout his body at being split by the large blond was all that existed to Squall. Momentarily forgetting how to breathe, he pressed his head back into the white pillow, his lips parting in a soundless cry. What should have hurt him was instead the most intense feeling he'd ever experienced, neither registering as pain nor pleasure, just pure adrenaline twisting his mind inside out.

Dropping his head to hang next to Squall's, nestling it against brown locks, Seifer's mind went blank. He could only _feel_and remain stunned in place at being exactly where he had wanted to be for long hours, his aching need to be inside the brunet finally fulfilled.

Feeling Squall's legs wrap around him and the man's lips pressing to his neck in encouragement, Seifer knew it'd only take a firm thrust or two to send himself straight into the waves of ecstasy. Wanting to savor his climax after the long build up and worried about coming too soon, he fought hard to remain still. But when Squall moved to take in more of him, obviously not prepared to wait for him to regain his control, he lost what little restraint he had left and forced himself in all the way to the hilt. Expression freezing in rough satisfaction, he let out a loud groan and immediately settled into long, forceful thrusts. With each plunge he increased his pace, soon succumbing to grunts and curses, entirely lost to self-gratification.

Startled by the sudden roughness to Seifer's thrusts, Squall tried to channel the incapacitating lust that spiked through him each time the blond _almost_brushed against him just right before sliding out again. Train of thought upended, his body winding taut at the indescribable feel of Seifer moving deep within him, he was only granted short moments to adapt to the sensation of being stretched beyond capacity and the harsh plunge of Seifer's cock, before the blond started to cramp up against him, angular features screwing up in an expression of both ache and bliss. Realizing what was happening as he felt Seifer's length twitch inside of him, the man's movements slowly stilling, he remained unmoving, both stunned and painfully aroused.

Hearing nothing but his own breaths, Seifer's mind slowly began clearing, but as another warm pulse traveled along his cock, he was drawn to the slick pressure enveloping him. Dropping his head to rest against cool sheets, he let out a low groan, his lips impacting with soft skin and the familiar scent of Squall joining on his inhale. Wanting to regain their earlier connection, he began nibbling on the soft skin of Squall's neck.

The slow path of agonizingly soft kisses pressed against his neck did nothing to abate the heavy throb of arousal that had settled in Squall's groin. Having Seifer buried within him, unmoving yet so unbearably close to that aching bundle of nerves craving so badly to be touched, was enough to make him lose his mind. He couldn't keep still.

Circling his arms around the blond's sides, hands wandering to memorize the outline of broad shoulders, he drew himself flush against Seifer's chest. Strangely pleased at the low hum of approval this earned him, he let Seifer capture his lips in a kiss. A torturously languid kiss, unhurried and not nearly enough to abate the fire in his blood. Tightening his hold around Seifer's back, he parted his lips in an instinctive need to deepen their kiss.

As their tongues twined and stroked, Seifer brought up a hand to weave through dark bangs. Shifting his position slightly, he relished the heated moan that left Squall at his accidental move inside the man. He'd never been more thankful for managing to stay hard when hands started to roam his back, hungrily drawing him closer. Resisting their pull, he moved back slightly, wanting to see Squall. Greeted by the sight of dark eyebrows scrunching together in a small frown, the man obviously confused by his distancing move, he felt the urge to tease the man.

Lips sliding into a playful half-smirk, he slowly pulled out of Squall, but just as he was about to slide out entirely, he sneaked his hand behind Squall's left leg and placed a steady grip at the crook of the man's knee. Pressing his lower arm against the back of a pale thigh, he forced the brunet's leg down against the man's side. With Squall bared and angled just right for deeper penetration, he pushed back in. Watching as Squall's head fell back into the soft pillow and gray-blue eyes disappeared behind heavy lids, he eagerly repeated the move, his smirk growing.

Squall's mind buckled as Seifer pushed into him, the teasing slide out and forceful thrust back in repeating in a slow cycle, filling him to the brink and chasing the breath from his lungs. Infinitely grateful for the friction raking against him, inside of him, however brief or slow, he was utterly consumed by it. His hands, no longer able to stay locked around Seifer in a tight embrace, traveled to settle against the blond's arms instead, his fingers flexing to greedily grope tanned skin and firm muscle in a mindless want for more.

When Seifer finally settled into a steady rhythm, teasing movement changing into deep thrusts, Squall let out a deep groan, his hips moving on their own accord to encourage the increased pace. Excitement overriding all thought, his hands clenching and unclenching, his body arched to derive as much pleasure as possible from Seifer's. Held into position and pressed into the bedding by solid weight and strength, he had trouble angling himself right. His insides were twisting with searing pleasure, but it wasn't enough. A thin sheen of perspiration settled against his skin, his breathing increasingly labored. Opening his eyes, he sent the clearest order he'd ever given: _more._

Instantly understanding what Squall wanted, Seifer angled himself better and leaned farther back to gain more force behind his thrusts, his eyes darkening in lust at the sight of the naked brunet writhing beneath him.

"Squall..." he started, but quickly faltered, reduced to letting out nothing but guttural groans as he increased his speed to try and sate the man. Hooking both of his arms beneath Squall's knees to lift the brunet's hips from the bed, he robbed Squall of any freedom of movement he might have had left and began slamming himself into the younger man relentlessly.

"Fuck," he cursed, the feel of driving Squall so hard causing his fingers to dig deeply into pale skin, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh and the rhythmic creak of the bed beneath them reverberating loudly in the room. Leaning back just a bit farther, he finally managed to get the last purchase necessary in order to plunge into the brunet exactly how they both wanted it. A string made of curses, Squall's name, and deep groans left his lips as his thrusts grew almost feverish, his expression set into a frown of bliss.

Unable to meet such frenzied thrusts with his own, Squall instead arched into the merciless pistoning of strong hips to allow for deeper penetration, his flushed lips parting to moan in wordless pleas for more. Without anything to hold on to as Seifer slammed into him violently, he was being pushed into the bedding ruthlessly and slid back and forth across white sheets in time with Seifer's franticly paced thrusts.

Left no choice in the matter, with Seifer dominating their fevered coupling completely, spearing him relentlessly, he all too soon shuddered in orgasmic abandon beneath the blond, his features contorting in absolute bliss as he cried out Seifer's name.

Watching as hot release landed in white ribbons across Squall's stomach and feeling the man's channel tighten convulsively around his cock, Seifer let out a low groan. With a quick move he forced himself as far into the smaller man as possible, before he reluctantly settled into languid thrusts, allowing Squall to savor his climax. Panting heavily, he leaned down to be closer to the brunet, his lips eagerly finding Squall's to initiate a slow kiss.

Dark strands of hair hopelessly mussed and flushed features glowing with sexual satisfaction, Squall merely returned Seifer's kiss as he brought up his arms to drape around the blond's neck, slender fingers playing with Seifer's fine, golden hair. He'd never felt this sated before, his body manipulated expertly by the blond and glowing in residual ecstasy. It was the kind of simplicity that made all else seem unimportant.

After long minutes filled with nothing but slow kisses, Seifer slid out of Squall unhurriedly and pushed up onto his knees. Without hesitation, he grabbed hold of Squall's previously forgotten shirt and used it to clean them both. Needing to resume their activities, still not sated himself, he moved from between Squall's legs to kneel at the man's side instead.

"Turn around," he ordered, eager to let his eyes feast on the man's backside and take Squall from behind.

At the command spoken in a low voice, Squall felt a shiver run up his spine, more from the thrill such a command implied than any real arousal. Ignoring the first and most crucial warning that had been hammered into his mind since the day he had started his training as a cadet, he turned to lie on his stomach and bared his back in submission. It was easier than it should have been for a seasoned fighter, but all he felt was excitement as he imagined Seifer's gaze raking his backside, green eyes exploring where skillful touch would surely follow.

Eyes trailing along the form of the slender man laid out before him, Seifer enjoyed the sight of well-trained calves and thighs leading to firm ass cheeks. He couldn't help the brief thought that at some point, _something_he had done must have been right, because how else had he ended up with the sweetest reward of them all: the ice prince of Balamb Garden lying naked before him, ready in wait. Following the curve of Squall's spine, he paused at the shallow dimples at the man's lower back before letting his gaze travel further along naked skin. When his eyes reached Squall's upper back his whole body tensed up; a scar was covering the man's right shoulder blade, spreading far across the brunet's back.

Unsettled at the sight, he subconsciously moved his fingers to trail lightly against the uneven skin, unable to shake the unease growing inside him. He didn't like the thought of Squall having faced such danger without having been there to protect him. Not realizing that such a notion was entirely absurd considering Squall's line of work and their completely separate lives, he merely _felt _the strong urge to keep the younger man safe.

Determined to make Squall forget all about pain and dispel everything but intense pleasure from the man's mind, he slid his hand down Squall's back and over the man's buttocks, before slowly guiding the man's legs apart. With the tip of his right index finger, he traced the top of Squall's crack and started a downward trail, ending it in slow strokes around his anus. Stopping for a moment to put some lube on his finger, he smirked at the vague arch to Squall's hips; the brunet clearly wanted him to move things along.

Slowly spreading the cold gel against heated skin, he took his time with playful discovery, guiding Squall into unfulfilled expectation, before finally, slowly, sliding the finger in all the way.

Soft moans drew his eyes to where Squall's head was resting on a pillow, the man's eyes closed and eyebrows creased in pleasure. Sliding his finger in and out, teasing the brunet with the smaller size, only a taste of what was to come, he spread the man's ass cheeks, his cock growing rigid at the sight. It took all his willpower to continue his slow seduction instead of just plunging into that warm, slick heat.

Leaning down to place a kiss against the still healing scar tissue between protruding shoulder blades, he inched his finger back out, aiming to heighten Squall's need even further by denying the man anything but the slight pressure of his finger remaining just outside where he knew Squall wanted it.

With playful kisses and bites, he made his way up Squall's neck until his face was buried in a sea of brown. Taking hold of his cock, he guided himself into position and pressed his head against Squall's opening. Forcing himself inside, he felt much less resistance than earlier, the brunet's body accepting him much more readily, taking his whole length in one go.

Grabbing hold of slim wrists, forcing Squall's hands into the bedding in a possessive move, he indulged in the added body contact and settled into a slow rhythm of sliding in and out of the brunet, dragging out each intimate thrust.

Squall relished the feeling of Seifer taking pleasure in his body, every deep thrust conveying the claim the blond had laid on him. He had quickly learned that for someone usually so impatient, Seifer could move at a maddeningly slow pace, both in the skillful preparation of his prey as in his move for the kill. Long moments of nothing but silence and the phantom feel of a searing gaze had already reduced him to a mess of eager anticipation by the time large hands had moved to spread his legs apart. Finally feeling Seifer's length sliding in and out of him, the blond languid and sensual in his every move, a deep groan grew in his chest as he bit down on the pillow beneath him.

It was torturous and perfect at the same time, but he was willing to risk the loss of Seifer pressed close against his back, nuzzling his neck and hair, if he could get fevered thrusts and mindless grappling in exchange. With a forceful arch of his hips he drove Seifer deeper, his muscles and lower back straining at moving back against such a heavy weight pushing him down.

Instantly rewarded when Seifer fell in with his pace, he couldn't keep back a sharp breath and moan, the sounds muffled by the pillow below. Needing more breathing room, more air, he quickly wriggled a hand free from Seifer's strong grasp and knocked the fluffy pillow away, only to immediately move his hand back in place. He liked the possessive hold on his wrist, his body aching for the blond to be equally dominating in his thrusts. The slight increase in speed wasn't enough. His breath was growing labored with exertion as he pushed up against the blond in growing impatience.

"_Faster_," he managed breathlessly, unable to conjure up enough strength to take what he wanted, but desperate in his need.

At the order, Seifer grabbed hold of Squall's hips roughly and forced the man up with him on the bed. Having Squall on his knees in front of him, he drove into the man without restraint. But even when the brunet's whole body rocked with each of his harsh thrusts, he could still feel the man trying to impale himself, clearly wanting more. Not letting go of Squall's waist, he picked up his speed, determined to take Squall so hard that the man wouldn't be able to feel anything but his cock.

Thrust upon thrust, flesh upon flesh, he lost himself entirely to the act. Pounding away and forcing himself in deep, nothing existed but his frantic rhythm against the younger man. Squall could no longer keep up with him, the man's earlier impatient moves completely gone. There was no resistance to his rough and uncontrolled thrusts, only uninhibited sounds of pleasure merging with the fast paced creaks of the bed and his own low grunts. Using his thumbs to draw reddened cheeks apart, he groaned at the sight of his cock plunging into the brunet's ass.

As ecstasy started to radiate out from their connection, Seifer clenched his jaws and scrunched his eyes closed. Head arched backwards, he let out a deep groan as he felt the first pulse of his climax run through him, his hold on Squall's waist turning almost bruising in its intensity and his vision darkening.

Feeling Seifer climax inside him, jerking in release, a shuddering breath left Squall's lips as all movement stopped, right when he was getting exactly what he wanted. Distantly he understood that the blond's orgasm meant he'd have to wait, but impatience rendered him incapable of such a feat. Robbed of any tolerance he might have had left, he kept himself pressed close to the blond's groin, unwilling to give up the connection and feel Seifer slide out of him. His erection painfully hard, his ass throbbing and sensitive, he couldn't help from rolling his hips back.

Stifling a frustrated groan, he moved up to lean against Seifer and craned his neck back, forcing his lips against the blond's in a messy kiss. With an edge of desperation, he devoured Seifer's mouth in a hopelessly inadequate attempt to vent the fire racing through his lower body, his breath landing heavy against slick lips. When strong arms snaked around his waist, holding him close, he lost all sense of restraint. Greedily, he brought his hands back to grasp Seifer's hips, fingers digging harshly into toned muscle as he gave in to the powerful urge to move.

Squall's eager moves told Seifer everything he needed to know. Wanting to continue as well, but already growing soft inside Squall, he broke their kiss and pulled out. Collapsing onto his side, his body exhausted, he couldn't help but run his eyes over the brunet kneeling next to him. The sight of Squall naked and aroused, clearly wanting more and wanting it _now _made him smirk in amusement. He couldn't wait to fuck Squall senseless all over again, but for the moment he'd have to content himself with just playing with the brunet.

Gaze traveling upwards along the blond's reposed body and landing on a devilish smirk, Squall forgot to voice his frustration. Seifer _knew _what he wanted, but remained still, watching him in amusement. Bathed in blue light, soft shades outlining well defined muscle, the blond was masculinity personified, but it wasn't envy that stirred in him. Instead a much headier emotion took over. He would take matters into his own hands; he would take what he wanted from Seifer.

Moving in over his ex-rival and taking firm hold of his shoulders, he forcefully pushed the larger man onto his back, excitement shooting through him at what he was doing. Not waiting around for the blond to either protest or accommodate him, he straddled the man's strong hips in one fluid motion, his hands moving down to press against Seifer's chest. As he slid his crack along the blond's soft length, sensitive muscles clenching at the slight touch, his own chest heaved with tight breaths.

Angling his groin, his back tensing into a taut arch, he tried to create as much friction as possible. With hungry moves he grew uncoordinated in his lust and writhed against Seifer's body, experimenting with what touch felt the most gratifying- muscled thighs, the feel of their balls touching, the smooth and sticky skin of Seifer's length against his own hardness.

Entirely turned on by the way Squall moved against him, Seifer grabbed hold of the man's buttocks and kneaded them firmly before spreading them apart. Still not hard enough to fuck Squall again, he started to pull at the man's hips until Squall got his intention and scooted closer. Guiding the man into position, he only stopped when Squall's arousal was right in front of him.

Angling his head upwards, he gave the straining erection a teasing lick. At the slight swelling of Squall's cock, the tip turning a deep red, he felt his own length twitch in response. Bringing his right hand up to cup the man's balls, he took the head of the brunet's hard cock into his mouth and sealed his lips around the flushed skin. Assaulted by the pure smell of Squall's manhood and the lingering taste of his come, a deep rumble reverberated in his chest, the scent and taste a massive turn on.

Sneaking his fingers further back to tease the sensitive area around Squall's entrance, he began sucking off the brunet eagerly. Pushing a finger inside, he felt Squall's cock twitch in his mouth and salty precome leak from the man's tip. The natural lubricant of his earlier come and whatever remnants of lube that still coated the inside of Squall quickly covered his finger and made pleasuring the brunet all the easier. Sliding in another digit, he began finger fucking the brunet without restraint, aiming his thrusts to hit the man's prostate.

Unable to keep himself upright through the pleasurable assault without some form of purchase, Squall placed steadying hands against the wall to keep from collapsing on top of the blond. He couldn't fight the slight tremors rippling through his thighs and legs, his arousal soaring as Seifer made it impossible for him to choose between rolling his hips back or forwards. Glancing down to take in what he hadn't been able to appreciate before, his chest and groin tightened as he watched his length slide in and out of Seifer's mouth, the blond's cheeks drawn concave with each firm suck. An almost inaudible groan left him at the sight, his eyes narrowing with heavy desire; he was entirely unable to tear away from the arousing display.

Even in this position, one that should have left him in control of the blond reclined beneath him, Seifer manipulated the situation with dangerous ease. Squall hardly cared as skillful fingers stabbed into him, not as thick and deep as the blond's cock, but purposeful and precise and curling at just the right angle. The combined stimulation was more than his aching body could handle, his climax burning a violent path throughout his lower body and pulsing into Seifer's mouth with a jerking roll of his hips. The visual of the slight bob to Seifer's throat as the man swallowed his release was quickly replaced with searing white, his eyes scrunching closed in ecstasy and his sensitive length reveling in the slick tongue that swirled around him languidly.

As the final wave of his orgasm receded, the last of his strength left him, lazy satisfaction spreading throughout limbs that could no longer support him. Breathing labored, he only barely managed to move down Seifer's chest, before his legs buckled under his own weight and he crumpled against the blond inelegantly. Tugging his arm free from between the close press of their bodies, he let his head sag against Seifer's warm chest and closed his eyes in contentment.

Sweaty skin stuck together at every single point of contact, Seifer took a deep breath as he moved his arms to hold on to the brunet resting on top of him. Guiding a hand into messy brown locks, stroking the back of the man's neck and head, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment. As a soft breath of air ghosted across his chest, he tightened his hold on the younger man and began caressing the brunet's back idly.

He could easily have fallen asleep like that, with the smaller man's form curled up all around him, if it hadn't been for the renewed throb between his legs. Even as he enjoyed their shared intimacy, his need to press inside Squall soon won out and made him roll them over on the bed. Moving in to kiss Squall, he enjoyed the soft presses and intimate licks.

Spreading Squall's legs, he settled between them, before locating the bottle of lube from earlier and coating his erection. Without warning, he forced himself inside and leaned down against Squall, wanting to feel as much of the brunet as possible. Recapturing soft lips, he languidly thrust in and out of the man, the experience far removed from the mindless fucks he was used to.

Heavy eyelids drooping as he lay perfectly sated, too spent to meet Seifer's moves with more than the occasional slow push of his hips, Squall drew his arms around the blond in a loose embrace and curled his legs around the man's waist once more. Without lust clouding his mind, he simply enjoyed Seifer's unhurried thrusts for the closeness that the act brought them. He was perfectly happy to let Seifer weave them together tightly, his consciousness drifting on the warmth of Seifer's body slowly melting into his.

Seifer felt everything as he kept sliding in and out of Squall: the soft press of the man's lips against his own, the hitching breaths intermingling with their kisses, the slick heat around his cock, and the warmth of any part of them that touched; it all merged into perfect bliss.

When his climax finally hit him, it was unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. His whole body was tingling, every single part of him buzzing in ecstasy. Nothing else existed-nothing but himself and the man in his arms. Tilting his head to press lightly against Squall's, their scars aligning perfectly, he closed his eyes.

As he came down slowly, he took a deep breath and exhaled, his breath spilling across Squall's parted lips. He didn't want it to end. He didn't want to move or break their connection, but debilitating tiredness was beginning to spread throughout every part of his body. Catching himself as he almost drifted off, he inhaled deeply once more and finally resigned himself to slide out of Squall. Landing heavily on the bed next to the slim man, he moved to rest on his side.

Even with exhaustion dulling his eyes, he still felt the need to be close. Reaching over and placing his arm across Squall's stomach, he took hold of the man's waist and motioned for the brunet to move onto his side and face him. When Squall complied, Seifer contentedly drew him close, the smaller man's arm winding around him tightly in return. Keeping his gaze trained on the pale brunet, gray-blue eyes already closed in the beginnings of sleep, his lips curled upwards at the unguarded display.

Still not ready to succumb to the tiredness overwhelming him, he blinked a few times in quick succession to keep sleep from pulling his eyes closed, but in the end fatigue got the better of him, his eyes remaining shut. Lost to the pleasant imagery weaving through his fading thoughts, his breath evened out as he was lured further and further into enticing dreams, alongside the brunet in his hold.

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**A/N:** So... apparently Seifer and Squall turn to mush when on Avalanche. Who would've thought? Hope you survived it! :3 And don't worry, there won't be much mush around for a while to come, just some good old angsty fun.

For those interested, during the RP, Wolkje didn't have a clue what Squall was in for until after he took the pill (she's the one in charge of Squall). I think she nearly had a heart attack upon finding out the pill's effects (and I was still recovering from mine at Squall taking the pill in the first place). After calming down a bit, her words were: 'argh, I keep skimming over the effects, and can't help but think Squall's thoroughly screwed: inner-peace, euphoria, self-acceptance, hightened sensory input, hypersexuality, energy...' Screwed indeed :3 Not a cocktail meant for Squall... at least he had Seifer to help him through it ;) (and in my defense, I'd made the list far in advance of Squall possibly taking the pill, so no cheating was involved :3)

On another note, sorry for the delay on this chapter! We've been waiting to get it back from our beta, but she's been incredibly busy, so in the end we just decided to post it. Hope it's decent :) It was definitely a tough chapter to write. Took months to edit and we've scrutinized it to hell and back more than once. We really, really hope you like it! Please review and tell us what you think! Oh and William, your guesses were good! :3 Avalanche was based on a mix between MDMA and an aphrodisiac ;)

**09/04/2011**: This chapter has been updated to include the changes suggested by our beta—thank you Aera!


	6. Grim Rouse

**~ Chapter Six - Grim Rouse ~**

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**[Seifer Almasy's Apartment, ****Zayin House, ****Thursday, ****16th of October, 6****:56 am]**

The heavy scent of old sweat settling against skin punctured the perfect darkness that was Squall's shelter. It wandered into his dreamless sleep undetected, a vague presence, prickling and familiar, but not enough to distract him from his mental inertia. Wrapped in indifference, he simply drifted on the sound of a steady, slow drum echoing beneath his ear, each beat weaving into his mind soothingly, for what seemed like an eternity.

_Unfamiliar_. The vague notion materialized unannounced, consciousness prodding at his brain, but he didn't care about "unfamiliar" when there was also warmth. Burying his head a little deeper into the new sensation joining his disassembled sensory awareness, he hid from encroaching thought. For long moments nothing else existed. Sweat, a heartbeat—he realized—and _warmth_. Not an extension of his own body. He couldn't feel his own body.

Wrapping himself around the external source of comfort, not with arms but with an increasingly hollow kind of hunger, Squall kept quiet. For long moments he didn't stir, afraid that movement would break the spell. Eyelids twitched against his will. A nervous chill crawled through his veins and sent slight tremors through numb limbs, desensitized extremities suddenly registering as part of his body again. Trembling fingers. An arm he couldn't move. His legs were heavy, phantom bugs itching between muscle and bone. Cataloging each unpleasant sensation with detachment, he reluctantly remembered himself as boundaries formed and enclosed him, placing shape and skin between him and the body he was pressed close to.

A burning exhale of air escaped him as his heart jolted into a fast, erratic pace, hammering against his ribs. His mind was pulled tightly into his throbbing skull, every nerve end shocking awake. Distant discomfort became real, unavoidable, as he abruptly jerked from his semi-wakeful state. His eyes immediately blinked in protest as he opened them, the world a blur of blue shapes and lights moving too fast. He quickly closed them again as he greedily sucked in deep breaths, the excess oxygen making him lightheaded and doing nothing to alleviate the pins and needles that erupted throughout his body.

The form beneath him remained still, unaffected and constant. Slowly he flexed his fingers in a searching move, the feel of warm skin filtering through and offering a source of distraction from his discomfort. He wasn't alone. Slowing his breathing and isolating the strong heartbeat beneath him as a point of focus, he waited until the worst passed, the slight tremor that had taken hold of him receding. He still felt boneless, his skin covered in cold sweat and his pulse restless, but he no longer felt like he'd been dropped into a lifeless body coaxed back from death.

With small testing moves he tried to chase the residual numbness from his muscles, fingers and toes first. Feeling a warm weight tilt against his head in response, steady breaths ghosting his face, he cautiously cracked open one eye, then the other. Grateful for the soft blue glow that set the room alight instead of the blaring light from mere moments ago, he stared at a muscular chest, and beyond that, a wall.

He'd never woken up like this before, his left arm draped across a firm stomach and his head tucked safely under _someone's_ chin. A strong arm was cradling him close, a large hand pressing against his lower back. It was a ridiculous position to wake up in, but the thought failed to alarm him when a single name drifted to the forefront of his mind.

_Seifer_.

Eyes traveling up to take in angular features and rebellious strands of gold, he was greeted with the deceivingly serene sight of the blond fast asleep. The man's mouth was slack with sleep, his expression utterly unguarded, compelling Squall to watch, spellbound, as he relaxed against the slow rise and fall of Seifer's chest. Somehow he felt relieved at finding himself in the exact same position he'd fallen asleep in. With the blond pressed close and still there, he didn't stop to ponder the strange sentiment, satisfied enough with studying the sleeping man's peaceful expression for long minutes.

It felt strange, as if he was trespassing, witnessing something that wasn't meant for him. It wasn't that he'd never seen the blond asleep before—Seifer and he had bunked together a rare few times as cadets, shared a tent or room on training camps—but the last time he could recall Seifer letting his guard down around him like this was at the orphanage when Matron had allowed them a room separate from all the younger boys. Seifer had blown a fuse at having to put up with bawling, bedwetting toddlers at night and had enlisted Squall in the cause for their own bedroom whether he had wanted to join or not.

Feeling a painful tug in his chest at the remembered loneliness, all the other children their age already long gone to new homes except for the two of them, unwanted, Squall scrunched his eyes closed and burrowed his face against the blond's chest. Inhaling a scent he knew well from spars and fights long ago, he held his breath until lack of oxygen sent his head buzzing, hoping to chase away stray thoughts. _What are you doing?_ The sound of Seifer's voice, much younger and hiding surprise behind haughty annoyance, echoed through his mind as he remembered how the boy had walked in on him pressing his face into a pillow much the same way.

Just like he had then, Squall refused to look up, to breathe, but the firm grip that had yanked him up didn't come this time. Losing against the burning sensation in his lungs, he succumbed and took in deep gulps of air, his lips ghosting warm skin. Opening his eyes to regard the sleeping blond, his chest felt more restricted with every breath. He wasn't a child anymore; he didn't ever want to feel that pathetic again. He didn't need _anyone_, but he still couldn't help himself from looking at Seifer the way he had back then. He had trusted Seifer then, if only by merit of the blond's stubborn refusals to leave him alone. It had been the only constant in his young life.

He wanted it back. He wanted the constant of Seifer's presence back.

At the thought, a shiver traveled along his naked back, the sheen of perspiration that clung to his skin causing him to feel the cold of a passing draft all the better. The heavy and sweet tang that had settled against the back of his tongue was quickly becoming unpleasant. Swallowing thickly, his mouth too dry to dispel the lingering sweetness, he ignored his body's continued signals that something was wrong. He didn't want to focus on the thoughts starting to stir in his mind and instead kept staring at the taller man beneath him.

Slowly he slid the hand that was resting against Seifer's stomach upwards, only by a careful inch, wanting to coax some kind of reaction out of the blond without actually waking him, but no reaction followed. Increasingly restless, he propped himself up and inched closer to the blond's face, watching how his breath blew soft tendrils of hair back, how lips twitched slightly in response.

_What are you doing?_

A frown tugged at his brow when he hesitated, unsure whether or not to close the distance and feel the warmth of those lips again. He'd wake Seifer, but he couldn't break his gaze away from slack lips all the same. The chill of the breeze stinging his back contrasted too highly with the heat of skin pressing against his front. _Moving_ skin and muscle, hot and slick and _deep_. The feel was imprinted onto his body, inadvertently drawing his attention to how every inch of them was pressed together intimately.

Swallowing thickly once again, this time not because of the sweet tang invading his mouth, he dipped down and placed a ghost of a kiss against unresponsive lips, the simple contact kindling a need for so much more than just touch, but he couldn't reclaim the rightness he had felt earlier that night. Fingers itching and his heart tight in his chest, he knew anything more _would_ wake Seifer, an increasingly disquieting thought. What if the blond woke and it still felt... wrong?

The realization that Seifer easily could have left while he was sleeping, but hadn't, no longer made him feel relief when the thought emerged that maybe the blond had fallen asleep before he'd had a chance to. Squall couldn't recall falling asleep himself. He only remembered the paralyzing exhaustion that had taken hold of him. All too easily he had assumed Seifer had chosen to stay, a thought that left him feeling colder and colder by the second.

He couldn't bring himself to stay in Seifer's bed a moment longer, unable to shake his growing apprehension. Pushing away from the sleeping form, he carefully slipped out of the man's hold and forced himself into an upright position in spite of the sudden rush of dizziness the move earned him. Head reeling and jaws locked in nausea, he swung his feet over the bed slowly, his hands gripping the edge of the bed tightly. At the slow dip of the mattress, the blond behind him moving and brushing an arm against his lower back, he fled from the bed.

Uncoordinated steps carrying him to the window, he clumsily steadied himself against the sill and wrenched his eyes closed. His premature escape from the bed had sent the room spinning wildly, his stomach turning as up became down and vertigo screwed with his sense of balance. Barely able to keep himself standing, he slowly leaned down to rest his arms and head against the cool window sill, his whole body slumping forward as he waited for the world to come to a still.

As the floor stopped moving beneath his feet, his disorientation ebbing away into faint lightheadedness, his mind was drawn to other sources of discomfort. The lack of Seifer's heat gave the chill night air free reign to seep into his muscles, goose bumps lining his naked form as the wind chased all warmth from his body. Only sparing a moment's thought to the astoundingly different feel of the soft breeze against his skin to earlier that night, its touch no longer soothing or refreshing, the dull ache that radiated through his lower back when he tried to straighten himself demanded his attention next. It wasn't a sharp pain, but it was unpleasant enough to keep him bent over against the window sill, frozen in place at the painful throb each move caused him.

Shifting an arm from its steadying position to assess the damage, he touched his lower back testingly, kneading tender muscles with slow moves. Carefully he brought tentative fingers farther down, brushing against sore flesh and dry crust caked against his inner thighs. Unable to suppress a soft hiss, he quickly retracted the exploring touch, his arm falling limp to his side. Motionless, he suppressed the urge to curl in on himself and instead let the night steal whatever body heat he had left. The cold didn't register anymore when he finally pushed himself upright long moments later, his aching muscles complaining at the movement.

He didn't want to look back yet, anxiety stirring at the mere thought, so he stared out of the window. It was still dark, but the street below was already coming to life, the occasional pedestrian and car passing by signaling dawn was on its way. With a deep sigh he closed his eyes to a view that no longer captivated him, the connection he had felt to the outside world lost. Shutting out the dark sky and stark buildings in front of him along with the room behind him, Squall breathed in and out deeply to calm himself, but the scent of sex still clung to the air, to his own skin, drowning out the smells of the waking city that floated into the bedroom.

Opening his eyes, his heart thundering in his chest, he closed the window and cut off the flow of cold air. The room was plunged into sudden silence, the sounds of the metropolis loud in his mind now that he could no longer hear them. Involuntarily, his gaze fell to the reflection of light against glass, the mirror image showing the room and the naked blond behind him. Unable to deny the situation any longer at the onset of damning clarity, he slowly turned around.

Seifer lay sprawled on his back, his arm stretched out to where Squall had moved from the bed. Any sheets that could have covered the blond's naked form were lying in a crumpled heap at the foot of the bed, dirtied testimony to what they had done. The bottle of lube and his t-shirt were lying on the bedside table, the rest of his clothing strewn randomly on the floor along with Seifer's. Taken off eagerly, he remembered. Watching the scene from a distance, no longer a part of it, unable to return to it no matter how badly he wanted to, dread seized him.

They would never be able to take this back. He'd never have Seifer back, not after this. Even if it was something he had resigned himself to long ago, he wouldn't be able to accept it anymore. The moment Seifer woke up and asked him to make himself scarce would be the moment he'd crack. He knew he had to leave before that happened.

Needing to move and get dressed, he slowly inched toward what he thought to be his discarded underwear. Ignoring the harsh sting that accompanied his every step, his ass getting sorer with the minute, he fought down the coiling mess of emotions that was burning its way up to his throat. Grateful that the blond wasn't awake to witness the state he was in, he bent down to pick up his black boxer briefs, only to immediately drop them to the floor again, the thing covered in dried come. His own, his memory provided with glorious detail. Recoiling from the images that were far too vivid, he forced his mind back on track. _Get dressed. Get out_. A brief glance in the direction of his t-shirt was enough to remind him that the piece of clothing was just as stained, if not more so.

Freezing in place at the sudden sound of the bed creaking, his eyes immediately darted to the heavy blond who was shifting slightly and moving his outstretched arm to rest on his stomach. Feeling increasingly exposed, he couldn't bear to remain naked in Seifer's presence and willed himself to keep moving. With all else ruined, pants would have to suffice. Fingers incapable of the finer motor skills required to buckle up a belt, he quickly stopped trying, glad enough to have managed the one button and zipper of his jeans. Taking in the discouraging sight of heavy boots and the long shoe laces they sported, he figured if he was going to leave shirtless, then shoeless to top it off didn't matter much.

The pins and needles returning to his arms told him he was probably breathing too fast again, his mouth and throat uncomfortably dry. The longer he stayed upright, the dizzier he felt. If he didn't leave now, Seifer would find him passed out on his floor come morning. Without another look back, he carefully padded across the room towards the door and stepped into the living area, slumping back against the door the moment he closed it behind him.

The sudden warm air enveloping him stung his eyes and sent an involuntary shiver along chilled flesh. His lips and mouth were getting drier with each ragged inhale and his tongue felt much as if it'd been replaced with a piece of cardboard. Thirst temporarily overruling everything else, he pushed away from the door and made for the kitchen sink. Addled depth perception toying with his line of sight, the water tap slunk away from his reaching hand whilst the wall behind it crept impossibly forward, his fingers closing around thin air.

Cursing inwardly, he stilled his moves momentarily and blinked until the sink and tap fell into their proper places. Trying again after a deep breath, this time advancing his hand more steadily, numb fingers found the tap and twisted it open. Careful not to aggravate his dizziness any further, he bent over slowly and drank with greedy gulps, the feel of water sliding down his parched throat soothing, but soon forming an unpleasant and cold weight in his stomach. With an unsteady hand he wiped at his mouth, before turning off the water again. Carefully, he turned around and steadied himself against the sink, his eyes scrunched closed.

He wouldn't get far like this. He could hardly walk straight, let alone drive a car. His entire body _ached_, his vision and sense of balance impaired. He wasn't even wearing _shoes_. Sick amusement built within his chest at the absurdity of his situation, at how utterly weak and pathetic he was, but it never manifested, his face turning expressionless when he opened his eyes and his gaze landed on the small bag of pills still lying on the kitchen counter.

Thoughts frozen, he stood still for long minutes. It wasn't that he'd forgotten. It just hadn't seemed important, other things having demanded his attention before. Suspicion threatened to unbalance what remained of his composure. Images of Seifer holding him close, the feel of the man's every single touch committed to memory, clashed with the dawning realization that none of it had been real, the evidence sitting in plain sight. But _knowing_ it was nothing but chemicals causing the sharp jolt of pain he felt, didn't help to stop him from feeling it all the same. Fingers clenching into fists, he tried to quell the panic surging through him. Maybe he was just being paranoid; he'd heard drugs could have that effect. Seifer _wouldn't_. He would never—

_Seifer would never hold you like that_.

The truth hit him like a brick wall. Refusing to acknowledge the hurt he knew wasn't _his_, he forced his mind into a blank. He just had to wait until the drug had run its course, then it would be over. Reaching into his pockets, he took a moment to will the tremble of his fingers away before fishing out his cell phone and flipping it open to check the time. _7:23 am._ He couldn't recall when exactly he'd taken the Avalanche, his sense of time jumbled, but it should have been a few hours already.

Pocketing his cell phone, he stayed where he was, the edge of the sink pressing uncomfortably into his lower back. Sitting down or making himself more comfortable would end in him falling asleep, moving around too much and exerting himself in passing out; two outcomes he _had_ to avoid. He couldn't be here when Seifer woke up. The moment he felt confident enough he could walk without getting dizzy or nauseated, he'd grab his stuff and go. So he waited.

The fridge was humming quietly in the background as the seconds ticked by, the occasional muted noise coming from different parts of the building the only other sound interrupting the otherwise complete silence. Alone with his thoughts, his gaze strayed to the bedroom door. At first he just watched while listening out for any sign of the man on the other side. The image of the blond's features relaxed in sleep came to mind easily, but tanned skin and well defined muscle materialized before his mind's eye just as effortlessly. His thoughts traveling lower on their own accord, to shapely cut hips and a straining erection; dread struck him the moment he caught himself.

With a rough move he quickly regretted, he turned around and grabbed the faucet, the metal cold in his tight grip and the clatter of running water loud in his ears. White flecks swarmed around the edge of his vision as he leaned over and splashed water in his face to stun himself out of his train of thought. _I let Seifer—_ Another splash of cold water immediately followed, his bangs sopping wet and clinging to his face, but to no avail. No matter how sober he'd get, no matter the fact he'd soon feel revulsion instead of arousal, it wouldn't change a thing about what had already happened. What he had _let_ happen.

His cell's ringtone snapped him from his daze, the sound piercing and demanding, but he didn't move to pick up. He already knew who it was, the insistent ringing accompanied by the sudden reappearance of his sorceress' aura, circling just outside his own, refusing to come any closer. The moment she knew he was aware of her, she almost felt _brittle_ as she sought him out more fiercely, the echoing pinpricks of hurt intensifying with each second he left the ringtone unanswered.

He _couldn't_ pick up. Not now. Wiping his hands dry on his pants, he took out his cell phone and placed it on the kitchen counter. Taking a step back, he locked his eyes on the buzzing piece of plastic, but the ringtone simply died and he found himself alone again, no longer able to feel her. A short beep signaled he'd received a new voice mail, silence returning to the room.

Heart beating fast, he glanced at the bedroom door, but he couldn't hear any movement on the other side. At least the call hadn't woken the blond. Gaze moving back to his cell phone, he hesitated, afraid to hear what Rinoa had left to say after everything that had happened at the club. Most likely arrangements for the breaking of their bond, the last thing he wanted to face right now. He wasn't foolish enough to hope that maybe she had reconsidered, but he couldn't bear hearing out the final verdict either.

It was all happening too fast. He couldn't believe how horribly wrong things had gone in the span of a single night. Feeling thick emotion settle at the back of his throat, he smothered the useless feeling and reached for his phone. The sooner he got it over with, the better. Flipping his cell phone open, he navigated through the menu and brought it to his ear, bracing himself for whatever message Rinoa had left.

As the voice mail started playing, Rinoa's voice was hoarse and quivering, making it obvious she had been crying.

"...Squall... You... I-I always thought you weren't capable of... of feeling like that. That it wasn't my fault. That something... your childhood maybe... had caused you to be the way you are... But now... I know I've been horrible, but... You're too cruel... At least I had the decency to cloud our bond, so you wouldn't have to... have to _know_... Would you believe me if I said I never cared about anybody but you? ... I guess you wouldn't... You're breaking my heart, Squall. I love you. So much. Why... Wh-who did..."

A long pause filled with nothing but sobs disrupted the message, before she managed to collect herself again and continued, the fake accepting tone forcing her voice to the point of almost breaking.

"...I guess we're really over then, huh? Let's meet... the day after tomorrow, 9 am, Odine's lab..."

After only a small moment of hesitance, the line went dead.

For a while Squall just stood there, phone still pressed to his ear. He had stopped taking in anything Rinoa was saying the moment she mentioned _she_ at least had clouded their bond. The brief tug of anger he had felt at what Rinoa considered "decent" had instantly been replaced with overwhelming humiliation, the realization that she had witnessed what he had been reduced to at Seifer's hands making him almost physically ill. Intentional or not, she had _felt_ the most intimate, most wretched experience he'd ever had, stealing from him the only comfort he had left in the process: denial.

But the tone to Rinoa's voice echoed through his mind, making it impossible to feel true anger. He never could whenever she cried because of him. All he felt was defeat at the final blow to whatever was left of their relationship and he'd been the one to deliver it. Bringing his phone down, only to confirm the replay option, he forced himself to listen to the message in its entirety, needing to hear everything no matter how condemning. He could only cringe at hearing her first words again, now realizing Rinoa didn't know whatever she thought he'd felt hadn't been _real_. But before he could draw any relief from hearing someone else state that he shouldn't be capable of such feelings, confirming the Avalanche was just toying with his emotions, the rest of Rinoa's message registered with him.

And that's when everything became clear, painfully so. The rift between them had always been there, but he only recognized it now for the first time. The distance he'd never be able to cross with her, yet so easily had forgotten about with another. _Who_ didn't matter. Even if what he'd experienced was only an abomination of what Rinoa likened to love; if what he'd felt under the influence of Avalanche was anything _near_ what she wanted from him, what _she_ felt for _him_, then there was no way for him to return such feelings. Suddenly the dissatisfaction he'd always detected in those hazel eyes _meant_ something, his affection for Rinoa a far cry from what the drug had made him do with Seifer. He hadn't understood before, such a hopeless greed for another person, consuming and burning and vulnerable all at once. It wasn't something he _wanted_ to understand.

Clutching the cell phone in his grasp, it all became too much. His world caved in under the weight of truths upended and the hurt he'd inflicted on Rinoa, resonating deeply with his own desperation for someone he couldn't have. Real or fake ceased to exist as a torrent of emotion broke through the dam he had carefully constructed, the harsh thud of his phone impacting against a wall registering before the urge to throw the thing away could. His heart thundered loudly in his ears as sheer willpower was the only thing keeping him from going back to the bedroom and seeking oblivion in Seifer's touch. One pill was all that stood between misery and bliss. Eyes landing on the next best thing, the blue whisky he barely had had a taste of before, he took the bottle in hand and opted for the lesser evil.

* * *

**[Seifer Almasy's Apartment, ****Zayin House, ****Thursday, ****16th of October, 10****:44 am]**

Seifer tossed and turned in an outward reflection of the disturbing dreams that filled his mind. Fighting three imaginary Bombs that were repeatedly throwing Meltdowns his way back at the Fire Cavern, barely fourteen years old, he yelled for Fujin to hurry the hell up and cast Cure and Esuna on him. As another Meltdown set in, he groaned and brought up his hands to clutch at his head, clenching his eyes shut in an effort to shield himself from the pain.

Noticing the tangy sweet taste that clung to the back of his mouth, he reopened his eyes to take in his surroundings. Lava no longer hissed all around him, the stifling heat of the humid cave gone. Instead he was greeted by pleasant warmth and sunlight spilling in through the window. Another stab of pain shot through him, causing him to bring up a hand to knead at his furrowed brow, his eyes shutting again in reflex. The taste in his mouth told him he'd been playing with Avalanche again.

Unable to focus because of his piercing headache, he only managed to collect his thoughts long enough to realize he'd been a complete idiot; he'd left his Antidotes in his pickup truck. Groaning, he searched his mind for an Esuna before he belatedly realized he didn't have any. He hadn't bothered to draw any for ages, the process too troublesome compared to the ease of just carrying some Antidotes around.

Slowly, the pain settled down to a more manageable level. Feeling confident he could deal with the added sensory input, he reopened his eyes, his gaze landing on the closed window. Taking in the temperature of the room, he guessed the day was well on its way to noon.

An image of taking a guy roughly from behind suddenly flashed before his eyes, bringing with it disturbing clarity.

Remembering the identity of said man, a man he realized had been in his arms mere hours earlier, his eyes went wide. In a quick move, he sat up in his bed, his eyes darting around the room and spotting pieces of the brunet's clothing strewn haphazardly on the floor. Wincing in pain, he cursed the reckless move. He knew better than to move like that after a night of Avalanche. With a grimace he tried to ignore the pain that pulsated relentlessly against the inside of his skull.

Forcing down the urge to vomit, he focused all his thought on slowing down his breathing. Cautiously, almost in slow motion, he leaned forward whilst keeping his eyes closed, one of his hands pulling firmly at his hair in an effort to ease the pain. As it subsided slightly, he let out a soft sigh. Once more, he attempted to open his eyes, this time able to take in the world around him without another onset of mind rendering pain. As his eyes traveled back to where Squall's shirt was lying on the bedside table, he slowly prepared himself for the memories to reform in his mind. Running a thumb absentmindedly against his lower lip, he could almost feel Squall's lips still pressed to his own; he could almost hear the man's breathless pleas for more.

Even with his headache stealing most of his attention, an insistent throb settled heavily between his legs. Fisting the sheets his temper rapidly reached the levels of a scalding boil. His whole body tensed up. He felt like breaking something. Hitting something. Destroying something. He couldn't believe what a fucking idiot he had been. _Fucking imbecile_. What the fuck had he thought would happen, offering Squall Avalanche like that? Ridiculous. _Fuck_.

It had been amazing.

Annoyed, he ignored the thought and tried to make his way to the side of the bed. As his headache soared to dangerous levels, he had to still all movement. Drawing in rushed breaths, he squeezed his eyes shut. He had fucking seduced _Squall_ of all people. Unable to believe it, he grabbed hold of the bedding with crushing force. If that wasn't the biggest fuck up of all time, then he didn't know what was.

"Fuck," he cursed again, this time out loud as his resentment for himself reached new heights. But then a fine thread of embarrassment began pulling at the farther reaches of his mind. More intimate memories of the night began replaying in his mind, images of him just holding and kissing Squall. Being sickeningly tender. He couldn't help but feel a strange disconnect to the memories.

_Well there goes any pride I had left. _He snorted out loud at the bitter thought. He couldn't believe he had acted like such a... _pussy_, for lack of a better word_. _At least if he had seduced Squall and given the guy the fuck of his life without having acted like he'd left his goddamn balls somewhere maybe he could have stayed proud. Or somewhat at least. But he'd ended up fucking Squall as if he was the guy's _lover_ or something stupid like that.

Groaning loudly, he knew without a shadow of a doubt he'd never be able to face Squall again. Hopefully he wouldn't have to. Even with Squall's clothes strewn all around the room, he stubbornly held on to the unlikely hope that the man had left, not wanting to linger. Maybe Squall had grabbed one of his shirts in trade for the cum-crusted one. Grimacing once more, he decided to push all disturbing thoughts to the back of his mind until he'd dealt with his roaring headache.

Tiredly, he stood up from the bed, a heavy weight settling in his chest. Deciding not to think of last night was one thing, actually managing the feat another. Calm focus eluded him, his mind jumping from thought to thought. He couldn't help but wonder if he would ever see Squall again. Not that he really wanted to, not after what had happened between them.

As if on cue, another memory surfaced to embarrass him even further. Shaking his head softly in disbelief, just as quickly regretting the move, he couldn't believe he had come so quickly after entering Squall. Nothing like that had ever happened before. _Never_. Not even when strung out on Avalanche or fucked up beyond any semblance of cognition from drinking too much alcohol, nor when he'd first had sex. _Especially not then_. He cringed in chagrin. Of course something like that had to happen to _him_; Hyne and his buddies were probably laughing their asses off.

Finally able to string the way too lucid memories together into one coherent night spent with Squall in his bed, he narrowed his eyes. He still couldn't believe what they'd done; what Squall had _let_ him do. How he'd fucked the guy like it was the last thing he'd ever do. The _one_ guy he was more indebted to than anyone else and the one that made him feel the most regret over a past he couldn't change.

"Fucking drugs," he muttered under his breath as he slowly worked his way over to the dresser and got out a pair of baggy dark green trousers, once more trying hard to push the disturbing thoughts away. He needed painkillers and water. Only after that would he attempt to pay his pickup truck an overdue visit. Those antidotes would work wonders. Kneading at his forehead once more, he finally managed to empty his mind, outright refusing to pay his rampant thoughts any more attention.

Entering the living room, his eyes travelled around the room unhurriedly. Vaguely noticing Squall lying sprawled out on his couch, he ignored the sight. Head feeling much as if a Blobra had taken up residence inside it, he turned his back to the man and headed for the kitchen. He figured the brunet could just stay passed out on the couch as he determined how the hell to disappear off the face of the planet. But first thing first, he needed relief.

Opening a cupboard above the kitchen counter, he got out a glass. Greedily, he downed most of the water he'd poured into it before he pulled open a drawer and located the painkillers. As his headache gave his brain another tight squeeze, he couldn't suppress a deep scowl and quickly swallowed two tablets along with the rest of the water. Exhaling slowly, he closed his eyes and waited.

Remaining still for long moments, he kept trying to ignore the other presence in the room. He wasn't ready to deal with what had happened the night before. But as his headache slowly subsided and his mind cleared little by little, he could no longer suppress his morbid curiosity and turned to regard the brunet.

Squall was lying on his couch, half dressed. The unbidden image of what lay beneath coarse fabric easily popped into Seifer's mind as he took in the sight of the man's dark grey jeans riding dangerously low, leaving the top of the man's crack exposed. With a narrowing of his eyes, he forced his thoughts back on track and instead took in the way Squall was draped across the cushioning of his couch rather inelegantly, the man's back turned to the room. Eyes trailing to the bottle of liquor that lay empty on its side on the coffee table, he realized the phrase "passed out cold" would probably be a more accurate description.

Narrowing his eyes further, half in distaste and half in confusion, he couldn't really believe the sight. Surely the ice prince of Balamb Garden hadn't downed a bottle of liquor? Scowl intensifying, he walked over to the coffee table to further inspect the odd scene.

Taking the discarded bottle in hand, he looked at it in contemplation. He knew he couldn't really blame Squall for having sought escape in alcohol, well in the knowledge he wasn't one to judge. He just hadn't expected such a thing from the normally above and beyond self-composed and in-control brunet.

Eyes traveling back to the man lying uncomfortably on his couch, he couldn't figure out what to do. He wasn't sure what to expect of the man lying dead to the world. The only thing he was fairly certain of was that Squall would probably be down for the count for at least several more hours and was going to wake up with aching joints, freezing to his bones, if he didn't move him into the bedroom. Watching the brunet warily, he noticed that the man's features were tensed up in an expression of distress. In fact Squall's whole body seemed to be twisted into an unnatural position.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath, knowing there was no way he could get out of relocating Squall, his conscience not letting him. Moving to sit down on the coffee table, facing Squall, he leaned in over the man. At the heavy smell of stale alcohol that greeted him, his nostrils flared in distaste.

Watching the man for long moments, he realized that at least there was _one_ potential benefit to Squall's presence. Surely the commander would have Esunas on him, the man way too anal-retentive to not be fully stocked up on everything. The only unknown was whether or not Squall would be able to junction in such a state. Seifer had never been able to himself when drunk; not after the war, at least. But surely the wonder child of para-magic would be able to pull something like that off.

"Squall," he demanded harshly, eager to get rid of his headache.

Not budging at all at the blond's command, Squall huddled his arms a bit closer to himself, fine eyebrows and pale lips only twitching ever so slightly at the sound of Seifer's voice.

Realizing it'd take a bit more force to get through to the brunet, Seifer got up to study the man a bit more closely. He didn't really want to be rough with the guy, certain the massive hangover and the come down from Avalanche would be nasty enough on its own, but he didn't have much choice. Grabbing Squall's chin roughly, he angled it in his direction.

"_Squall_," he repeated loudly, his attention fixed on the man's eyes.

Grey-blue eyes finally fluttered open reluctantly, the brunet's clouded gaze not entirely rooted in reality as he peered at his assailant in temporary confusion. Blinking a few times, he finally brought up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, frowning deeply whilst groaning in displeasure at the rather rough wake up call.

Without wasting a second, Seifer got straight to the point. "Junction," he demanded harshly whilst retracting his hand from Squall's chin.

Slowly moving to rest on his back, Squall draped a hand across his eyes to block out any visual input, his features even paler than usual as he swallowed thickly before even attempting an answer.

"...Can't," was all he managed, his voice gravelly.

Rubbing his eyes in exhaustion, Seifer let out a deep sigh. They'd both just have to survive with massive headaches until he got the Antidotes then. Not that getting the Antidotes would make things much better. If anything, they'd just clear the way for a whole other kind of headache, the prospect of actually dealing with what had happened not the least bit appealing. Not wanting to linger on such thoughts, he decided to let auto pilot work its magic and forget about everything for the time being.

"Come on, Squall," he said as he bent down to take hold of the brunet. Sneaking an arm under the smaller man, he pulled the brunet up from the couch and steadied him. "Let's get you to bed."

Far too incapacitated to protest the sudden relocation, Squall let himself be hauled off the couch and guided in the direction of the bedroom, most of his weight supported by the taller blond.

Having helped the younger man into bed, Seifer headed back into the kitchen to get some water and painkillers. As he walked through the door leading to the living room, his eyes came to rest on a discarded cell phone lying on the floor. Squall's, no doubt. Vaguely wondering how it had ended up on the floor, he picked up the phone and placed it on the kitchen counter, before he set about getting out the pills and pouring a glass of water.

When he returned to the bedroom short moments later, he sat down next to where he had helped Squall into the bed.

"Drink this," he said as he held out the large glass of water. Wearing a prominent scowl, he couldn't help but feel concerned for the younger man. He hated seeing Squall in such a condition. Especially knowing he was the cause. He had really fucked up for Squall to seek refuge in alcohol. Unable to believe for even a moment that it was a regular occurrence for the strong-willed SeeD, he felt his resentment for himself grow.

Awkwardly propped up in Seifer's bed, Squall slowly took the glass out of the blond's hand with trembling hands, the cool water almost sloshing over the edge as he sloppily took a sip. Brows drawing together in a frown at his appalling eye-hand coordination, he didn't look Seifer's way as he barely managed to set the glass down on the bedside table, his eyes unusually dull and weary. But when a hand cradling precious aspirin entered his peripheral vision, he gratefully took the pills and brought them to his mouth, swallowing them dry.

Seifer tensed up as he watched Squall. It was easy to tell that the brunet was uncomfortable in his presence. Not that he could blame the guy.

"Get some sleep," he said in a tired voice, sensing he needed to give the man some space. As his eyes landed on pale lips, a flash of holding Squall close and kissing him formed in his mind. Bringing his eyes back up to peer at grey-blues, he fought to suppress similar thoughts and instead got up from the bed to turn and walk away.

Leaving the room, closing the door softly in his wake, he realized the distraction caused by the younger man's presence had temporarily managed to trump his headache, but it was still there, at the back of his mind, demanding his attention. He really needed those Antidotes. Heading to pick up his jacket lying at the end of the kitchen counter, his eyes were instead drawn to the cell phone he had found on the floor earlier. Stopping in his tracks, curiosity growing, the same question as before arose in his thoughts. There must have been a good reason for Squall's phone to have ended up where it had. Maybe it had been thrown? Or maybe it had just been dropped accidentally by a drunken Squall.

Torn, he walked over to where the phone was lying and took it into his hand. Turning it over a couple of times, he regarded it in thought. Eyes flitting back to the door leading to the bedroom, he could easily conjure up the image of Squall lying passed out on his bed. It would only take a couple of minutes for him to look through the phone. It wasn't like anyone would ever know. But it would be wrong. And if Squall ever did find out, he'd be a dead man.

He flipped the phone open regardless, revealing an electric blue display. As he stared at the device he knew he should stop himself, but it was far too tempting. There was no way Squall would ever find out. More likely, he'd be able to find out why the phone had been discarded so thoughtlessly in the first place.

Easily navigating the standard phone layout, Seifer quickly located Squall's messaging inbox, no longer hampered by his easily persuaded conscience. Hyne knew he had broken much worse rules in the past, so why develop any qualms about it now? Skimming through the list of messages, he frowned. All of the most recent texts were from Rinoa, the majority of the brunet's entire inbox swamped with messages from the girl.

He could only reach the conclusion that he'd been right in his original assumption. Rinoa and Squall were still a couple, regardless of what he had witnessed at the club. Annoyed at the stab of hurt the thought caused, he immediately suppressed it, very well in the knowledge that he had absolutely no reason for feeling that way. He had been the one to use Squall, not the other way around. And so what if Rinoa and Squall were still a couple? What difference did it make? Headache back full force, he had to press his eyes firmly shut as he tried to calm his breathing.

_What the fuck have I done?_

Stilling his mind, he focused on the task at hand instead of his renewed headache and zeroed in on his original purpose. Opening the first message Rinoa had sent the previous day, he couldn't help but snort.

_- Message from Rinoa / 14:43 pm / You're late. Where are you? -_

How lovely. Just one message and already he knew much more about Squall and Rinoa's relationship than he cared to. There was no mistaking the abrupt "You're late" as anything other than one of Rinoa's more disgruntled jabs. Idly wondering just how Squall would react to such a message, vaguely amused at the scowl he could imagine as the only real response, he navigated to the next message.

_- Message from Rinoa / 16:12 pm / You know how much I hate going in alone. I needed you to be here, Squall. -_

His expression changed to one of confusion as he wondered where Rinoa had needed Squall to be. Quickly opening the next message, sent roughly an hour later, he skimmed over the words.

_- Message from Rinoa / 17:32 pm / Don't bother. I'm going out for dinner with a friend. -_

At the message that hadn't even been meant for him, his anger stirred, the words reminding him of one of the reasons why he'd never enjoyed female companionship much in the first place. All that passive aggressive shit didn't make the loose sloppy fuck worth the time or the effort. Why the hell would Squall stand for something like that?

_- Message from Rinoa / 22:57 pm / So now you care? How convenient. Don't wait up. -_

Squall _cared_? After _that_? Surely he had read that wrong. Unable to believe the words displayed on the screen, he could feel nothing but bafflement. He couldn't fathom _any_ other response to Rinoa's earlier messages than Squall ignoring them. Frown deepening, he had to know just what Squall had written to inspire such a reply from Rinoa.

_- Message to Rinoa / 16:49 pm / My meeting took longer than I thought. I'll try and be home before six. Sorry. -_

He reread the message a couple of times, unable to connect the word "sorry" with Squall at all. Not only was he certain the word didn't exist in the man's vocabulary, he also couldn't believe Squall had actually used it to apologize after the snappy and blaming messages Rinoa had sent him. Feeling his esteem for his one-time rival falter, put off by the man's behavior, he continued on to the next message.

_- Message to Rinoa / 22:53 pm / When will you be home? It's getting late. - _

Ah, so that was what Squall "caring" had meant. Not really what he would have classified as caring, but he guessed it worked as far as the brunet went. Narrowing his eyes, he felt annoyed at Squall seemingly tolerating Rinoa's behavior. The man he remembered from his past would never have allowed anyone to treat him in such a way, the rival from his teenage years much too prideful and strong-willed; not pussy-whipped. Squall sounded almost like a scorned housewife. Either the guy had changed radically or Seifer had interpreted things the wrong way. He was seriously hoping for the latter. Sighing, he navigated back to Rinoa's messages and quickly found the one that followed the last one he'd read.

_- Message from Rinoa / 12:36 am / I'm not feeling good. Come pick me up. -_

All that resounded in his mind was a great, big "seriously?" He couldn't believe the audacity of the girl. Even more unbelievable was the fact that he _knew_ Squall had done just as she'd asked. He couldn't comprehend it. It was just too farfetched for his brain to wrap itself around the idea that Squall had changed that much. Groaning, he couldn't believe he'd become part of this mess.

_- Message from Rinoa / 12:53 am / I'm at some club. Somewhere in the Tiamat District. Hurry. -_

He had to roll his eyes. _Priceless_. Rinoa had been high maintenance even back when he'd shared a summer fling with her, but it had never been _that _bad.

With no more messages from her in the inbox, he returned to read the rest of Squall's messages.

_- Message to Rinoa / 12:38 am / Where are you? - _

Still unable to believe Squall had just followed her order to come pick her up without any complaint, he shook his head. Why had Squall bothered? She was a spoiled little daddy's girl. If she was grown up enough to go out and get fuck-faced, then surely she could deal with the consequences herself without needing the damned SeeD Commander to come rescue her.

_- Message to Rinoa / 12:45 am / You have to tell me where you are. Are you alright? Do I need to bring the pills? - _

Confused, he had to reread the message a couple of times. Maybe he had been misunderstanding things. But... Rinoa had been at the club and it had been obvious she had been drunk. Why was Squall mentioning pills?

_- Message to Rinoa / 12:55 am / What club? Is everything okay? -_

Rereading the message one last time, knowing it was the last one, he sighed, no closer to knowing what had happened while he'd been fast asleep in the bedroom. He could only assume Squall had called Rinoa after that last message and had gotten the name of the club from her. It wasn't hard to figure out that she had been the one at the other end of the line when Squall had dismissed him back at the club.

Just about to return the phone to the counter, navigating back out through the menus, he spotted the icon for voice mails on the blue display. Not expecting to find anything, he straightened up and mentally prepared himself to leave the apartment and head out to get the Antidotes, when he spotted a voice mail registered as received just that morning. Frowning, he thought he might as well give it a listen, already in way over his head in knowledge he wasn't supposed to have. Fingers momentarily stilling, he realized he might just have hit the jackpot: it looked like the message had already been listened to. Pressing the button to access the message, he brought the cell to his ear.

As he listened to Rinoa's message, he was stunned into place. Standing stock still for long moments after it had finished, he couldn't even begin to comprehend what he'd just heard.

And then it hit home.

Placing the cell on the kitchen counter, he walked to sit on his couch, his green eyes empty and dull.

_I love you, _he heard Rinoa's voice repeat in his mind, the pain in her voice cutting right through to the bone. She'd felt it. She'd felt what had happened. Witnessed it.

His eyes jumped to the closed door leading to the bedroom where Squall was lying unconscious. Dread began to worm its way through him. Squall had emptied the bottle because he'd hurt Rinoa. It was that simple. And that horrible. Squall really cared for her. That was why he had acted the way he had. Squall really _had_ changed. For her.

_I fucked up_.

Cursing inwardly at what a giant piece of shit he'd been, he could almost feel the pain he imagined Squall to have felt as the words 'you're too cruel' played back in his mind. He'd never meant for things to go that way. He'd never meant to hurt Squall. Or Rinoa. He'd only meant to ease Squall's mind for a short while. Not sexually assault the guy. He couldn't believe Rinoa had felt what had happened through the bond she shared with Squall.

Not knowing what to do, he ran an unsteady hand through his hair and sat still for long moments. New ideas slowly began taking form at the back of his mind, his thoughts starting to clear. He knew how to make things better. He could make things right. Determination taking over, he rose from the couch and headed for the bedroom. Hesitantly, he pushed open the door and glanced inside, relieved to find Squall still lying on the bed fast asleep.

As he walked farther into the room, his eyes were involuntarily drawn to the unruly mop of dark bangs splayed messily against a white pillow. Tearing his gaze away, he got out a piece of paper from one of the drawers and quickly scribbled down a short note in case the younger man were to wake up while he was out. "I'll be back soon," was all it said.

Placing the note next to the sleeping brunet on the bed, he stopped in his tracks to regard the man once more. He knew what he was planning to do wasn't going to be easy; he didn't look forward to it one bit. He could only hope it would help Squall. That was all he cared about. Hyne knew he had caused the man nothing but trouble throughout their lives. He couldn't undo what had happened, but if there was any way he could help fix the mess he'd created, then he'd do just that.

Closing the bedroom door softly as he left the room, he walked over to the kitchen counter and slid Squall's cell phone into one of his pockets. With a deep sigh, he exited his apartment and set a fast pace as he walked in the direction of his car.

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Hope you enjoyed your cigarette Madisuzy ;) and wow, those are flattering words William—thanks! :D And to 'ur new fangirl'—glad we could make you 'squee' :D Mission accomplished! Hopefully you all enjoyed the aftermath as well. Oh, and anyone who likes doujinshi, hit me up with a pm or e-mail me here: chemotaxino at gmail dot com and I'll share my collection of scanned doujinshi (just stumbled across it on an old harddrive the other week—I used to collect FF8 doujinshi). Gotta share the SxS love, so yeah, just let me know if you want to read 'em. And remember to tell us what you thought of this chapter! :)


	7. Collision Course

**~ Chapter Seven - Collision Course ~**

* * *

**[Seifer Almasy's Vehicle, Thursday, 16th of October, 11:46 am]**

As soon as Seifer sat down in the driver's seat of his thirteen-year-old dark green Toquino Renegade pickup truck, shielded from the cold outside, he leaned over to unlatch the glove box. It sprang open with a quick snap and with his headache spurring him into urgency, he reached inside to search through his small stash of assorted healing items. Grabbing the vial he needed, he twisted off the tiny cork and greedily downed the luminous liquid inside, numbness soon soothing his headache. For long moments he sat in silence, a hand kneading at his forehead even after his eyes had finally cleared and the Antidote had done its work. When he finally released a deep breath and took in his surroundings again, the air inside the car had gone damp, a thin layer of condensation clinging to the chilled windows.

Looking out at the people walking down the street, watching as they drew their clothes closer in an effort to keep the brisk autumn cool at bay, he tried to ward off straying thoughts and stay focused on the task at hand. He was going to take responsibility for his actions.

Slumped against the driver's seat, he arched his head back to try and ease away some of his frustration. He needed to be calm for what he was going to do—not worked up. Even though his plan wasn't all that great and could easily backfire, he remained firm in his decision, unwilling to back down.

Squall's cell phone weighed heavily in his pocket, impossible to ignore, so with a deep, steeling breath he retrieved the device and flipped it open. For long moments he stared at the blue display before finally venturing on to the list of contacts, locating the one he needed. Pausing once more, he eyed the name in apprehension, but bit the bullet with a simple press to a button.

He could no longer reconsider, there was no going back. Bracing himself, he waited for his call to be answered.

"...Squall..." he heard Rinoa answer weakly, sounding slightly surprised, as if she hadn't expected Squall to call.

Listening to the soft voice, a voice that had always sought his affection and had soothed him before the war, Seifer's reluctance grew at what he was about to do. There was no way the conversation was going to go well. He was going to hurt her regardless of how the call unfolded. Reminding himself of what he'd witnessed back at the club, of how she had slapped Squall, only to leave the man alone at the club, he knew that what had happened had at least to some extent been her own fault. But it hadn't been Squall's, and she needed to understand that. Determined, he kept his voice low as he spoke his first words. "Rinoa... I need you to listen to me."

"Who is this?" she immediately asked, her voice apprehensive.

Uncertain of how to answer her, not wanting to give his identity away, Seifer paused to collect his thoughts. He hadn't really thought things through, just rushed ahead as usual without much consideration for the specifics.

"I'm a friend of Squall's," he finally answered, hoping his reply would satisfy her curiosity for the time being. "I was there last night... at the _club_." The last word was spoken in clear implication; he wanted Rinoa to realize her own part in what had happened.

A couple of moments trailed by as the girl remained silent. When her words finally came, they were laced with suspicion. "Squall doesn't have any friends in Esthar."

Realizing he should have expected such an answer, Seifer felt annoyance simmer just beneath the surface. For her to presume such a thing rubbed him entirely the wrong way. "He does," he stated firmly.

Not wanting to protract the whole ordeal any longer than absolutely necessary, he got to the point. "I offered him Avalanche to help him forget." Even thought he tried hard to mask it, he couldn't keep the regret out of his voice. "He never meant to hurt you."

After a stretch of silence, a short choked laugh resounded at the other end of the connection. "...I can't believe this..." Rinoa said, letting out another chuckle, this time more dark and disbelieving than before. "He was with you last night, wasn't he?"

Eyes narrowing at the girl's darkly amused response, Seifer couldn't believe her laughter. What the hell was she laughing at? That he was calling her? That Squall had been with a guy? As his annoyance reached new heights, he could no longer contain his barely restrained anger. "What the fuck is so funny about this?" he snapped, his left hand clenching tightly against the cold leather of the steering wheel.

Fighting hard to reel back his anger, he took a deep breath. _This isn't how it's supposed to go._

"...Seifer?" His name was spoken in utter disbelief, an immediate end coming to Rinoa's awkward laugh.

Going from fuming to dumbstruck all within the fraction of a second, Seifer lost his train of thought.

_Fuck. Definitely not how it's supposed to go. Back up. Get the message across and get out._

Through sheer force of will he managed to persuade himself that his identity was irrelevant in this. All that mattered was that she understood. "The message you left him... it devastated him. I can't believe you thought he would do something like that to you on purpose."

Rinoa's words came quickly this time. "What the hell is this? How..." she demanded, sounding totally perplexed, her voice heavy with denial. "You? ...With _you_?"

Feeling his anger rise once more at her unbelieving words, he had to remind himself that he was doing it all for Squall's sake; not hers. "Rinoa, calm down," he said, trying his best to calm himself as well. "That's what I'm trying to say... it wasn't _him_... it wasn't _me_... it was _the drugs_." Needing to make her understand, he continued on. "Don't blame Squall."

"The drugs?" she echoed incredulously, before continuing in a distraught voice. "...Why are you telling me these things? How long has this been going on?"

"Only last night... Rinoa, _listen_... there's nothing going on between us, it was a freak accident. I'm telling you..." he said, quickly trailing off as he worked hard to restrain himself and keep his composure. But as he remembered some of the words she had spoken, some of the words she had left for Squall to hear in a voice message, he could no longer hold himself back. "Squall doesn't deserve the accusations you threw at him. He would never hurt you like that. Believe me, he cares. He's in a fucking state right now because of you."

"So tell me, Seifer. Why do _you_ suddenly care? Since when have you ever worried about Squall or me? What gives you the right to talk to me like this! ... If it was just the drugs like you said, then leave him the hell alone! He's had more than enough of your twisted games!"

Dangerously close to snapping, Seifer pulled aggressively at the steering wheel, the quick move forcing him forwards in the driver's seat.

"You're right, Rinoa. I don't have the right," he snarled, his voice seething. "But what the _fuck_? My twisted games?" he spat angrily, before forcing himself to take a deep breath. He couldn't _believe_ her audacity. This wasn't about him; this was about _them_. "I _will_ leave him alone," he forced out through his teeth, speaking the words he thought she needed to hear to feel less threatened by the situation. He needed her to calm down and focus on what he was saying.

"You're not listening to me Rinoa. I'm trying to help you guys here. Do you really think he would have told you _any_ of this on his own?" he asked, knowing full well Squall would never do such a thing. She _had_ to know that too. She _had_ to understand he was doing this for them, that he was trying to help them salvage what the hell it was they had left. He couldn't be the last straw, he just _couldn't_ be the one to mess up Squall's life again. "And I always cared about Squall," he added in a low voice.

An incredulous snort was instantly followed by sharp words. "You have a strange way of expressing you _care_. He might not have told anyone back at Balamb Garden, but I know what you did. You _are_ twisted."

Rendered speechless, Seifer could do nothing but hold onto the steering wheel. She knew...

Squall had told her.

Closing his eyes, images of how he'd tortured the younger man at D-District played before his mind's eye, refusing to leave him alone. He felt nothing but shame and regret at those dark memories, his whole body numb to anything but the hurt that ran through him. He hadn't meant to. It... She...

After letting the accusation sink in for a moment, Rinoa continued, reining in her voice. "...As for your attempt to _help_... In the end... it doesn't really matter how he feels about you. What matters is what he doesn't feel for me... Seifer, if you really do care... I don't know what you think happened last night, but I know what I felt. You've always underestimated the impact you have on Squall."

He didn't hear her words at first, too preoccupied with the memories she had caused to resurface. When her words finally did register, he was left with nothing but confusion.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked after a pregnant pause, incomprehension clear in his voice.

Rinoa sighed in exasperation, before her voice took on a warning tone. "It means that Squall isn't as strong as he seems, especially when it comes to you. Your actions have consequences. They don't just roll off his back like it's nothing, no matter how composed he might pretend to be... You can't toy with him like this... I don't know what is worse. How you treated him during the war or this... You have no idea of the damage you are capable of."

Left mostly baffled by her words, Seifer was having a hard time keeping up, until some of what she was saying sank in. He couldn't believe she had just compared the events of the previous night to what had happened during the war. Mind reeling, he lashed out. "Why is this about me all of a sudden?" he demanded in a mixture of anger and distress. "I _know_ my actions have consequences."

He took a moment to calm himself. "I know it's my fault. I know I fucked up, okay? _Again_," he said in annoyance. Realizing he had to get the conversation back on track, he continued on. "But clearly what you said affected him. I just wanted you to know it wasn't him. It wasn't his fault. That's all. So yes, if you want to be angry at someone, then fine, let it be me."

"...How noble of you," Rinoa said, no humor in her voice. "...I would be lying if I said I wasn't angry, but mostly... I'm frustrated... and hurt... You don't know what it's like. To want someone so badly, but never really being able to have them. And then for him to... with you... I just can't—"

Not sure he'd heard her right, his brown scrunched up in disbelief. Had Rinoa just said she'd never had Squall? That didn't make any sense. If the rumors he'd heard from Raijin and Fujin were anything to go by, then she and Squall had been together for over two years. Squall had _changed_ for her. What had happened between himself and Squall was absolutely _nothing_ in comparison. Her words were absurd, nonsensical even.

There was a moment of brief pause before Rinoa spoke again, her voice coming out dangerously tremulous. "...He brings out the worst in me. I've also done things I'm not proud of... It's because he's so oblivious... and so cold..." she trailed off, her quivering breath and sniffs on the other end of the line signaling her mounting distress.

Not liking Rinoa's growing disquiet, Seifer felt increasingly uneasy. "Will you stop making it sound like Squall actually wanted what happened between us to happen? Do you even know what Avalanche does?" he asked, incredulous at her words. "What happened wasn't any more his choice than a drug making him feel things he normally wouldn't."

"...Actually, I _do_ know, Seifer. I'm no longer the naive girl you used to know," she bit out resentfully. "And don't talk to me as if I don't know Squall. _I_ am the one who shares a bond with him... I'm not saying he _wanted_ what happened, but it's not as meaningless as you think it is either." A long pause stretched on, before she finally concluded in a tired voice, "Goodbye Seifer."

At the soft click that signaled Rinoa had hung up on him, he brought down Squall's cell phone to stare at it for long minutes.

Uncertain his effort had actually made any difference, he couldn't help but feel annoyance towards the girl. Rinoa hadn't seemed to take any of what he'd said to heart, only lashed out in return. And when she hadn't lashed out, her words had been downright confusing. He didn't know _what_ to make of the call. Sighing heavily, unable to curb the regret that welled up inside him, he wished he was the one lying passed out in drunken sedation.

It seemed the only instances he would ever feel remorse were in relation to Squall. He should have known better than to offer Squall Avalanche. He should have known that he wouldn't be able to control himself. Slamming his hand hard against the inside of his car, flesh making harsh impact with the rough plastic, he couldn't believe how much he had managed to fuck up in the space of a day.

* * *

**[Seifer Almasy's Apartment, Zayin House, Thursday, 16th of October, 12:09 pm]**

Having already stalled in the living room for over five minutes, not really knowing how to approach the situation, Seifer ran a nervous hand through his hair. If he thought what he'd just done had been hard, then he knew what was still to come would be much, much worse. Filled with nothing but dread at the prospect, he eyed the phone that had spurred him down the treacherous path in the first place. He'd left the device lying on the kitchen counter for Squall to find on his own, well in the knowledge that handing it to the guy would only add more flames to the already roaring stake he'd lit underneath himself.

With his elbows leaning on the hard surface of his kitchen counter, he began tapping his fingers restlessly against the dark stone. He'd certainly solved the mystery of why Squall had suddenly found a strong appreciation for Galbadian Bluewhistle, but the knowledge only made him want to face the man even less. Sighing, he turned around to glare at the empty bottle that lay discarded on the coffee table as if it was to blame for his impossible situation. Squall was going to be livid with him; he'd be lucky to survive the day. Secretly thanking Hyne that the man hadn't brought his gunblade along, his relief was shortlived as the mental image of his own gunblade lying hidden beneath his bed came to mind. He could only hope Squall hadn't realized where he kept Kronos, even if the spot was pathetically predictable.

What it came down to was the fact that he owed Squall the truth, nothing less. No more avoidance, no more lies. He would own up to what he'd done, just as he'd apologized for the war. It wasn't like there was any way he could get around it. If he didn't tell Squall what he'd done, the man would just find out from Rinoa anyway, and then he really _would_ be dead.

Running his fingers through his short locks for the umpteenth time, he pushed away from the kitchen counter and headed for the bedroom. He couldn't stall any longer.

Inside the small room, his eyes were immediately drawn to Squall, the man lying in almost the exact same position as when he'd left. It was surreal to see the brunet like that. He'd never bothered to study the man's features relaxed in sleep before, had never seen Squall so unguarded. But before he could finish the thought a new memory emerged, one of Squall smiling and looking content.

Dismissing the imagery and the bitter taste it left in his mouth, he walked closer to the bed and grabbed the note he'd left there earlier. Crumpling the small piece of paper into a tight ball, he pocketed it in silence. His expression was entirely blank as he brought up a hand to massage one of his tense shoulders. Walking over to the bed, he lowered himself to sit down on the edge, the mattress shifting slightly under his weight.

Squall was lying on his stomach, cradling the pillow bunched up beneath his head, the lower half of his face mostly hidden from view by a high riding duvet. Hesitantly, Seifer pulled down the white fabric to uncover the rest of the man's face and left his hand to rest on top of the thin sheet. He really wasn't ready for this. He didn't want to be the one to return Squall to a world where the man's girlfriend had just left him for sleeping with his one-time rival. It took all his willpower to remain firm in his decision.

"Come on, Sleeping Beauty... time to wake up," he said in a low voice as he moved the hand resting on Squall's shoulder to try and stir the man awake. A displeased groan was all he received in reply.

Stubbornly keeping his eyes closed, eyebrows knitting together in a frown, Squall tried to will Seifer away. It felt like only a few minutes had passed since he'd laid his head to rest on the blond's pillow. His exhaustion exacerbated by the alcohol and chemicals still polluting his system, all he wanted was to be pulled under again by the deep sleep of recovery and keep all else at bay for just a little while longer, but Seifer's presence made the feat increasingly difficult.

"Come on Squall," Seifer said in a low voice as he tried to coax the brunet to wake. "I got you an antidote."

Realizing Seifer wasn't going to leave him alone, Squall unfurled his arm from underneath the pillow and turned to lie on his back in resignation. Instantly reminded of why moving was a bad idea, the glare he had intended to fix the blond with fell short as the room started to spin, his eyes unable to focus properly. The acrid taste of liquor mixed in with other fainter flavors he didn't want to label caused nausea to work its way up from his stomach to the back of his throat.

Holding out the vial containing the bright yellow liquid, pretty certain the item would gain him Squall's full attention, Seifer kept his eyes firm on the younger man. "Here," he said, waiting for the brunet to take it.

Squall immediately recognized the vial for the godsend that it was. Forgetting his desire for the blond to leave, he slowly worked himself into a sitting position and took the curative item from Seifer's hand, careful to avoid any accidental touch. Unsteady hands fumbled with the cork, before he downed the tingling cold liquid in one big gulp. Dropping the hand holding the small flask to his side, he slumped back into the pillows and closed his eyes in relief, the antidote already starting its work.

He was well accustomed to the feel of the cold liquid suddenly burning unbearably hot for the span of a few seconds as his body absorbed it at an unnatural pace, the healing agents of the item accelerated by magic. It soothed his unsettled stomach and licked its way through his veins, negating all harmful substances lingering in his blood. By the time the burn subsided, all that was left were sore muscles and an aching back, but it was enough. He could think again, his head clear and his body back under his control. Opening his eyes, he placed the empty vial on the bedside table without trouble, his fingers no longer trembling.

Turning to regard Seifer expressionlessly, his eyes no longer clouded, clarity of mind nearly cost him his composure as the sight of the blond brought unwanted images to the forefront of his mind. Bitter humiliation struck him as he realized Seifer had now seen him in every demeaning situation possible, ranging from pathetically weak and shoved against a harsh prison wall to passed out drunk on the man's couch and dependant on his help. And that wasn't even the worst of it.

Uncomfortable under the brunet's penetrating gaze, Seifer looked away. He wasn't normally one to avoid confrontation nor one to feel repentant, which left him without any behavioral patterns to fall back on. With his lower arms resting against his thighs, he began rubbing his fingers against his knees distractedly. In a subconscious move, he angled himself away from Squall slightly. Going over a host of different options of how to approach the situation, each one as unpleasant as the next, he decided to state his aim and persuade Squall to hear him out.

"We need to talk," he said, his eyes falling to the floor, his every move underlined by his increasing apprehension. "...I'm going to say some things that you aren't going to like to hear... but hear me out, okay."

Not saying anything in reply, Squall willed himself to wait for Seifer to continue, fighting his overwhelming need to run. It was an instinct he knew well from his childhood, one that had driven his feet until he hadn't known where he'd been anymore; one that had led him to fall asleep at the foot of a rock face, miles away from the orphanage, at the other side of the bay.

He had learned to face his difficulties since then, so he stayed in place as he tried to ignore Seifer's strange body language and the unusual warning that unpleasant conversation would ensue. Seifer's preferred way of breaking the news had always been blunt and unapologetic, never... _this_. It couldn't mean anything good.

At the lack of reply, Seifer decided he might as well speak the words no-holds-barred and get it over with as quickly as possible. "I spoke to Rinoa," he began, thinking Squall would view that as the worst of it. "I heard the message she left on your phone and it angered me that she'd think you'd do something like that on purpose." His words were measured, yet clearly conveyed how strongly he felt about what he'd done.

Seifer's words weren't quite sinking in. Dumbstruck, Squall stared at the blond, completely unprepared for the implications of the man's statement. He had expected Seifer to request he disappear not only from the blond's apartment but also his life, effective immediately from the moment he was able to. His mind was still torn over whether or not he would comply, when the altogether different words filtered through. _I spoke to Rinoa_.

Obviously contemplating how to proceed, Seifer sighed heavily before he spoke again. _"_I_ know_," he said, his voice easily conveying just how badly he felt about what he'd done. He knew it was inexcusable, that he really shouldn't have done it. But knowing that didn't change it one bit. Bringing a hand up to his forehead, he pushed his long fingers into his golden hair and pulled at the short locks in visible frustration.

"I shouldn't have looked through your phone. But it was _there_ on the _floor._ And you'd downed a bottle of alcohol. When have you ever run away from anything before? ...I _had _ to know."

Eyes narrowing dangerously and white fists clenching against the bedding, Squall remained silent as Seifer continued his unwise confession. He ignored the sting of shame he felt when the blond cited his reason for such unwarranted meddling. The fact that his privacy had been violated in even more ways than he'd initially thought tipped the precarious balance in favor of quickly mounting anger. It was an easy emotion to embrace, blinding all other thought and burning its way to the surface.

Thankful Squall hadn't throttled him yet, Seifer realized he was almost there. There really wasn't much more to say. He just had to make sure Squall knew why he'd done what he had and that he felt guilty for it all.

"She knows it's my fault," he spoke lowly, his voice conveying his regret. "I should've known better than to let you have Avalanche," he continued, pausing ever so briefly. "I thought I'd be able to control myself..." But he hadn't been. The temptation had been far too great and now Squall was paying for it. _Again_.

Understanding dawned that Seifer must have said all of these things to Rinoa as well, and it took Squall great effort _not_ to act. He had at least wanted to try and talk to her himself when he was ready, to determine what she knew and never mention what she didn't. The drugs, the fact that Seifer was the one he'd been with, he'd hoped to conceal it. Even if she knew he'd been with a man, a nameless man existing in her thoughts was far less damning than the knowledge that their sick triangle was now complete, that he'd let the ex-boyfriend who threw her at Adel's feet fuck him. Never before had he felt so blinded by rage.

Seifer knew it was time to get out. It didn't bode well that Squall hadn't said or done anything for long moments. He could only imagine the man's anger rising with each passing second; the silence was _stifling_.

"I... I have to go soon. Feel free to stay however long you want," he said as he got up from his place at the edge of the bed without even looking in Squall's direction.

"I won't be around much. You'll mostly have the place to yourself," he added as he turned around, the need to get out of there overriding all other thought.

But without warning, before he could even take a step away from the bed, he was tackled to the floor, his head thudding harshly against unforgiving wood. He was only given a split second to stare into seething grey orbs before Squall's fist connected with his face, the man channeling all of his rage into the punch.

"Who the _hell_ do you think you are," Squall hissed in anger, grey-blue eyes spitting fire as he stared down at the blond.

Barely able to control the urge to punch Seifer again, his muscles tensing in the effort to restrain himself, Squall pushed off the floor, his every move rigid as he walked to the blond's dresser. He was beyond the point of taking in anything Seifer had to say and couldn't stand watching the man's face another second, lest he do something he'd come to regret. Seifer's turned back had been enough to dye his vision red. He wasn't sure what else might elicit such violence from him.

Setting himself the task of getting clean and dressed, more for distraction than anything else, he yanked drawers open without asking for permission. Pain instantly radiated out from his knuckles, but he paid it no heed as he started to rustle through the dresser's content with rough movements. Focusing solely on locating a suitable change of clothing, he retrieved black boxers and a black shirt without much consideration for size and shape, not even bothering with pants. If the boxers already looked like they'd fit him as shorts, any pants Seifer owned would be ridiculously oversized. Shoving the drawer closed, he disappeared into the bathroom and without another glance in the direction of the blond, he slammed the door shut.

Unable to pay much attention to anything but the intense pain shooting out from where Squall had hit him and where his head had impacted with the floor, Seifer remained still, completely unmoving for long moments. Slowly bringing up a hand to tentatively touch his throbbing cheek, he tried to open his mouth slightly, the pain increasing exponentially as he did. He couldn't open his mouth much more than an inch. Realizing his lower jaw was most likely broken, he brought himself into a sitting position.

He'd never seen Squall so worked up, never witnessed the man lose his temper like that. Who knew that after all those years of trying to break through to the brunet, make him lose control, the result would be altogether unappealing.

Not wanting to linger for a repeat performance or for the brunet to decide that it was altogether alright to rid the planet of his existence, he pushed up from the floor. He would cure the injury once he was well out of the building, not now. The sheer urgency of the moment became clear to him as his eyes traveled to the bathroom door; there was no telling when the SeeD Commander would return. Kicking himself back into action, he hurriedly grabbed his gunblade from underneath the bed and with Kronos in hand, he left the apartment.

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks for reading and as always thanks to Aera for betaing! A slight warning is in order as Wolkje and I have entered some very stressful and busy times. We'll do our best to keep the updates regular though (and of course, reviews are great on the motivational side of things ;))


	8. Waiting Game

**~ Chapter Eight - Waiting Game ~**

* * *

**[Seifer Almasy's Apartment, Zayin House, Thursday, ****16th of October, 12****:20 pm]**

Squall's pulse rushed loudly in his ears as he stood in the dark, his injured fist clenching tightly around the hastily procured change of clothes. The room had no window; only a thin beam of faint light filtered through the crack beneath the bathroom door, but he didn't move to switch on the light. The darkness, along with the feel of cold tiles beneath his feet, helped distract him and take the edge of his anger, if only barely.

At the sound of movement in the other room, he stiffened, but all he could hear were muted noises, not the heavy footfalls he'd expected, hurrying towards him. Vaguely disappointed that Seifer wasn't following after him to return the favor and give him the more justified excuse of self-defense to vent his anger, he stopped listening out for indications of what the blond was doing. He had walked away, he reminded himself. He was in control. After a few calming breaths to refocus on the task he had set himself, _needing _to work towards a goal, he felt along the wall to locate the switch and blinked briefly as a cold halogen light flickered on.

The bathroom was small, the shower stall barely fitting in next to the sink and toilet. The edge of the sink was littered with shaving utilities, cologne, and other toiletries, the power cord of a hair trimmer dangling haphazardly to the floor. Irked by the sight, he ignored how the plug of the cord hung an inch away from a puddle of water splashed across the tiled floor and moved to place Seifer's shirt and boxers on the towel rack.

Opening the small cabinet beneath the sink to look for a towel, he felt strangely self-conscious about using things that weren't his. Seifer's things. It wasn't like he had much choice, but even this kind of dependence irritated him and fueled the simmer of his anger with the blond. After everything, he wasn't even granted the meager comfort of cleaning last night's evidence off his body in the comfort of familiar surroundings.

Frowning, he quickly straightened with a towel in hand and shut the cabinet more harshly than necessary, the brisk move instantly punished by a painful throb radiating through his backside. The towel fell to the floor as he gripped the edge of the sink with a low groan. Blind rage had dulled the pain before, but now it was starting to become impossible to ignore not because he couldn't handle the pain in itself, but because of what it meant. Jaws clenching, he wrenched his eyes closed, the urge to hit something rising as he registered everything that felt _wrong_ in sick detail; from his sore ass to the throb of bruised skin along his neck and collarbones.

Grateful he hadn't inadvertently looked in the mirror yet, he kept his eyes closed as he sought out his ice goddess and pulled her into junction without warning, unable to muster much gentleness. Icy disapproval pricked at his mind, sharp and accusatory, but Shiva didn't deny him. Gracefully, she wove and tightened herself around the part of his consciousness that was reserved just for her with the kind of tender care that seemed to mock his loss of temper. A soothing chill swept through him, briefly relaying both her curiosity at the injuries she found on him and concern at his unusual distress, before she settled quietly in wait of his commands.

Bringing up a hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose, increasingly irritated with himself, he took a moment to organize his thoughts. About to extend an apology for junctioning her so abruptly and for such reasons, the thought was cut short by a soft nudge to his mind, telling him easily enough she had taken no offense. Quickly, he located a simple Cure spell and guided it through their junction. The bright glow of magic enveloped him and burned through his eyelids, the rapid healing bringing instant relief as it dispelled all soreness from his body.

Releasing a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, Squall straightened when the spell had run its course and opened his eyes to stare into the mirror. Silver eyes looked back at him, iridescent and flowing like mercury, before a gentle trickle of ice tickled the inside of his skull at his unvoiced gratitude. The unnatural silver bled from his eyes, the slight frost clinging to his breaths and the edges of the mirror fading as he unjunctioned her.

Alone with his thoughts once more, feeling calmer than before, he studied his reflection. His hair was a mess, the dark circles under his eyes testimony to his lack of sleep, but all things considered he looked like his usual self. As if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Taking in the lack of expression on his face, the sight entirely disproportionate to everything that had happened, he pushed away from the sink and his reflection in distaste. This was why people called him cold, but it was the way things had always worked for him; suppress or succumb, never a middle ground between the two extremes, and he refused to succumb.

Peeling off his jeans, the fabric stiff and uncomfortable at the crotch, he dropped the garment to the floor and stepped into shower stall. Twisting open the tap, he didn't cower from the brief spray of cold water as he waited for the heater to kick in and send hot water drumming down on his shoulders and back. Resolutely, he bit back feelings of shame and grabbed the shower gel, lathering a generous amount on his skin. He hesitated only briefly before he steeled himself and reached between his legs to scrub away the last traces of Seifer left on his body.

Moving methodically, he finished in quick minutes and stepped out of the shower. He toweled himself dry, put on a large t-shirt and boxers, and unavoidably ran out of things to demand his attention. For a while, he found himself staring at the bathroom door. As unappealing as the prospect of going out and facing Seifer was, he knew he couldn't stay in the bathroom indefinitely. Remembering why he'd left in the first place, he felt his composure waver.

Rinoa knew everything. _Everything_. Humiliation and anger mixing dangerously, he took a few deep breaths and reminded himself he shared in the blame. _He_ had taken that pill. _He_ was the one who hadn't even tried to resist, his behavior far from passive. Until last night, he would never even have believed himself capable of such things, drugs or no drugs. It seemed like Seifer always managed to bring out the worst in him; his judgment was never as poor as when around the aggravating blond. Blaming Seifer for Rinoa finding out was hypocritical when he shouldn't have let it happen in the first place. But looking through his cell phone... _that_ was a different matter altogether.

_Not enough to warrant breaking someone's jaw_, his conscience supplied unhelpfully. He could still feel bone crack underneath his fist, see the surprise in green eyes before they briefly wrenched closed in pain. He hadn't felt a shred of satisfaction at the act. Attacking Seifer with the intent to injure left a bitter taste, and again he found himself wondering why Seifer hadn't chased after him to deal out some punches of his own.

Not much of what the blond had done and said since the previous night made sense. Confident Seifer hadn't been out for revenge, he had let his guard down. Even now, he had difficulty interpreting Seifer's offer of Avalanche and everything that had happened after as some strange form of payback, which begged the question _why_ it had happened at all. His best bet, the only one he could wrap his head around, was the drugs having had some unexpected effect, the pills maybe of inferior quality or containing the wrong chemicals.

As things were, nothing had changed about his initial reason for following after Seifer. Things were still as unresolved as the evening before, if not more so. Confrontation was the only real option. He would ask about the Avalanche and more importantly, the war. He would not let memories of what had happened the previous night get in the way of getting the answers he needed. If anything, Seifer's continued lack of hostility meant it wasn't too late.

Decision made, he pushed open the door and stepped into an empty bedroom, no trace of the blond. He continued into the living area, his mind running a mile a minute, but when he was greeted with nothing but another empty room, he stopped in his tracks in disbelief. He couldn't have been in the bathroom for more than fifteen minutes, but in that time Seifer had apparently left the apartment.

Stunned out of his momentum and resolve, he quickly suppressed the irrational jolt of alarm he felt at the thought that he'd missed his chance and Seifer was now long gone. The living room and bedroom were as he'd last seen them, no signs of someone rushing to pack travel essentials. Besides, Seifer could easily have done so while he was out for the count. No. Seifer simply hadn't wanted to deal with the aftermath of his confession and had bailed the moment Squall turned his back, probably expecting him to take the hint and leave.

Cowardice wasn't a trait he usually associated with Seifer, but there it was. Squall would have much preferred for the blond to throttle him in a head-on collision; fists over words he could deal with easy enough. At least an honest fight was better than nothing, better than just running off. Renewed anger curled his hands into fists.

_"The basic principle of hit _'_n run, Squall. That's all there's to it_._"_

The words of wisdom Irvine had imparted to him with an easy grin some time ago, concerning the man's strategy with women, surfaced in his thoughts uninvited, causing him to freeze in place at his twisted mind. Frustration mounting, he ran a hand through his bangs and pulled at the roots to snap himself out of his train of thought. Dropping his hand, he forcefully willed his composure to return and considered his next move, the answer coming to him easily.

He would wait, either until Seifer came back or until he needed to think out a new course of action. If the blond expected him gone upon his return, he'd do just the opposite. He would not back off; he'd get what he had come for.

Looking around, he decided to deal with his clothes before anything else. He'd have to leave the apartment at some point, and he'd rather do so in his own clothing than in borrowed oversized items of Seifer's; the boxers he was wearing were already sagging uncomfortably low against his hips. He hadn't spotted a washing machine anywhere, but maybe Seifer had some detergent he could use for a hand-wash. He doubted he'd be able to use a washing machine without ruining his clothes anyway.

But nowhere, not in a single cupboard, could he locate any detergent. He considered the possibility of the apartment building having a communal laundry room, but there was no way he would go and find out wearing what little he had on. Frowning at the vicious circle, his mood not improving one bit at the realization that he'd have to ask for Seifer's help, he pushed the issue from his mind and resigned himself to the black shirt and boxers for the time being. If push came to shove, he'd just have to leave as he had intended to do the night before: shirtless and commando in stained jeans. He had faced worse.

Nausea no longer twisting his gut, the next thing that needed attending to was his empty stomach. In his search for detergent, he'd found all the cupboards fully stocked, so Seifer would hardly notice if he helped himself to something. Unlike the penthouse cupboards, he didn't have to bypass stacks of high sucrose foods to find what he needed. Apart from a ridiculous selection of different coffees and cans of dog food, Rinoa never foresaw much more than her next sugar craving when out for groceries. Seifer's kitchen told a different story; the discovery of raw meat and vegetables in the fridge implied the man actually _cooked_. Frowning at the weird visual that put into his mind, he closed the fridge and pushed himself up onto the kitchen counter, armed with an apple, some cheese, and a few slices of bread.

As he took a bite of the apple, his gaze fell to his cell phone sitting on the other end of the kitchen counter, not far from the small bag of Avalanche. Eyes darkening at the sight, he looked away again.

There was no way to determine exactly what Seifer had looked through, no point in it either, and he didn't want to see Rinoa's name listed at the top of his contact list, heading every text message in his inbox. He didn't want to hear her crying voice as she failed to ask _why_ he had hurt her in such a way. Saturday at 9 am. That was when he would deal with his sorceress. Not today.

Working through his meal on auto-pilot, his mind wandered back to the other person he had to deal with. Today. Apprehension tied a knot in his stomach, but he ignored it and instead studied the room more closely than he had the night before, more comfortable to do so without the blond's presence. Gaze drawn first by the work desk, the same thoughts emerged as before. Seifer hadn't really answered his question about the weapon parts, but he suspected it was work related, the detailed sketches too precise to just be a hobby. He remembered the sloppy and crumpled state of the class notes Seifer used to shove carelessly into the drawer of his standard Garden issue desk before dumping a big stack of Weapon Monthly's on top instead.

The bookshelves had been a surprise at first, but upon seeing most books were related to weapon materials and the fabrication of weapons, he realized he was probably right in his guess. Some of the strange artifacts displayed he could associate with a certain region or culture, some he couldn't, but their presence most likely meant Seifer traveled a good deal. Many times he had tried to imagine what kind of life the blond was living, and the realization that for the past half year he'd been only a short drive away from this place was surreal.

Sitting in Seifer's apartment, looking around, he was struck by the _normalcy_ of it all. Not even a flashy trench coat on the hanger by the door. But _somehow_ it was still Seifer: the practicality and optimal use of the space, the organized chaos of the work desk, the scent of metal and oil, even the stains on the coffee table. Now that he had seen it, he could not imagine any other setting, the image of Seifer leaning back in the worn couch materializing easily.

Eyes growing unfocused, he distantly regarded the couch, his mind quickly providing an overlapping view and reminding him of how they had sat there last night. How the blond had slumped back in relaxation, legs slightly spread and green eyes on him. At the time he hadn't thought anything of the situation, but now the scene screamed something of a sexual nature.

As he realized what he was thinking about, what he definitely should _not_ be thinking about, he was appalled at where his mind had led him. The Avalanche was one hundred percent out of his system, so disgust the logical emotion he should feel. But it didn't come. Humiliation, anger, regret, self-loathing, yes, but not disgust. Afraid to probe his impressions of the previous night, he tentatively let himself recall some of it, but quickly stopped at the remembered feel of Seifer _moving_ inside him.

Sobriety hadn't done a damn thing to change his recollection of the experience, the memory of being touched and taken by Seifer still... good. It had felt _good_ and the thought caused the blood to drain from his face. He knew it was unrealistic to expect he'd suddenly remember pain or revulsion. He knew a repeat experience would most likely be horrible and nothing at all like the night before, but even so, he now had these memories of fake intimacy, of Seifer, that he didn't want. It complicated things in ways he wasn't prepared for. It meddled with the important memories, the _real_ ones, the issues he had to address.

The Seifer he remembered from his childhood and cadet years had been arrogant and challenging, never considerate. The Seifer he remembered from the war hadn't been gentle but ruthless. Until he had his answers, the only touch he _should_ remember was the point of Hyperion pressed to his chest. Anything else would distract him from his purpose. Clenching his fists against the cool stone of the counter, his half eaten apple falling out of his hand, he tried to close the sluice gate of his memories, an impossible thing to do.

This wasn't what was supposed to happen.

_"It's okay... That's what the pills are supposed to do."_

Eyes darkening in anger, he felt sick to his stomach. Seifer had known. He had _known_. But it didn't make any sense. Seifer couldn't have known. Seifer wouldn't have offered the pill if he knew what it would lead to. He must have misunderstood; misinterpreted... It _had_ to be the pills. Yet the way Seifer had been so confident and had immediately followed it with...

He couldn't tell the difference anymore, his memory playing tricks on his mind. Anger shifting back and forth between self-directed and accusatory, his resentment at Seifer for leaving mounted to new heights.

A loud knock came from the front door, before someone pushed down the handle in an effort to open the door. The sound startled Squall out of his internal turmoil, his eyes staring at the door before narrowing. Frustrated with himself, Seifer, and the situation in general—finding himself in the blond's apartment wearing only boxers and a t-shirt when someone was at the door—he moved off the kitchen counter and contemplated what to do.

The knock sounded again, a bit louder this time. "I know you're in there, so just open up already. Arc said you weren't due in for another hour." The voice was sulky, the elevated pitch easily giving away details about the person on the other side of the door: a young male just reaching adolescence.

Already the unexpected visitor grated at his nerves, the boy not showing any indication of _leaving_. Resigning himself to deal with the situation, he walked to the front door with brisk footsteps and opened the door with a glare that warned the noisy teenager to proceed with caution.

At the other side of the entrance a lanky boy stood stunned into place. He didn't look to be more than fourteen years old, yet his height didn't match his young features, already at least a head taller than other boys of a similar age. His clothes were colorful; the shirt a bright yellow, pants blue and shoes red. Curious brown eyes peered at him, short fluffy dark bangs framing the boy's face.

"Who—where's Seifer?" the boy asked, confusion clear on his face, but the brown eyes regarding him in suspicion were not innocent by any stretch of the imagination.

"He's not in," Squall deadpanned in response as he scrutinized the gangly kid standing in the hallway, looking much as if a rainbow had vomited all over his outfit. Harmless appearance notwithstanding, the kid's attitude reeked of Seifer's influence. He hadn't even managed to finish the thought yet, when it was instantly confirmed by the boy pushing his way inside and ignoring his obvious irritation at the intrusion.

"Typical," the boy started talking to himself, his gaze searching Seifer's apartment in a way that told Squall the kid was familiar with the place. "Gets home yesterday and just ignores me." The boy walked over to the work desk and picked up a couple of items one by one to inspect them more closely, clearly unbothered by Squall's presence. "Didn't even meet up with Calder last night like he said he would." A few of the items made it into the boy's pocket.

Leaning against the doorway and not saying a word, Squall followed the boy's moves around the room, his eyes narrowing at the kid's abysmal attitude. Seifer's influence indeed. Briefly, he entertained the thought that maybe he should stop the boy from taking Seifer's things, but in the end decided it wasn't his problem if the blond liked to befriend a thieving teenager, as long as the kid left once he got what he wanted.

"Well, it's been real," the boy said as he turned to face Squall, an impish smirk on his face and colorful pockets bulging.

Hardly perturbed by the grin painted on boyish features, he merely met the kid with an unimpressed look. Without another word, mischievous expression still in place, the boy walked out of the apartment and left the front door open behind him in an unmistakable display of rebellion.

Staring at the open doorway, Squall frowned at the strange feeling of déjà vu. It had been a long while since he'd been given such lip and attitude by a kid, the cadets at Balamb Garden mostly smart enough to address him with proper respect when face to face. It hadn't had anything to do with perceived incapability concerning his rank either, as was the case with most adult's reactions to him. The kid simply didn't seem to like _him_ and he wasn't sure whether to find that annoying or strangely refreshing.

Shaking the useless thoughts, he contemplated what the boy had said instead. The sulky complaint when the kid had been knocking at the door told him Seifer would be going in for work in an hour or so, which meant he wasn't returning any time soon. It also meant the blond indeed _had_ fled the apartment in order to avoid him. The thought fueled his anger and stubborn decision to stay like nothing else. Moving to close the front door, he prepared himself for long hours of waiting until Seifer returned.

* * *

**[Alcauld Gardens, Thursday, 16th of October, 12:42 pm]**

Eyes distant, Seifer sat in his car in silence. He heard nothing; saw nothing as he ran a finger across his cheek where Squall's fist had connected with his jaw less than half an hour earlier. The sensation in the area was still strange, slightly different to normal, phantom numbness following the slow move of his finger. He easily recalled how his teeth had been misaligned earlier, forced out of place by the brutal impact. Even the slightest movement of his jaws had made him want to punch something, just for the temporary distraction. The moment he'd been inside his car, he'd healed the injury. As always, the use of magic had caused a dull ache to cloud his thoughts, yet it was nothing compared to the excruciating pain it had replaced.

Functioning on autopilot, he'd made it to Alcauld Gardens at record speed, his mind preoccupied with replaying those last seconds spent in Squall's presence over and over again. He'd already been parked in front of the park for several minutes when he had finally noticed where his subconscious had taken him. He hadn't been surprised; it was where he usually went for a time out and to contemplate. The manmade haven was one of the few places in Esthar where everything wasn't just electric blue and silver. The walkways were still made out of the same translucent azure material that made up most other roads in the large capital, but the large gardens were filled with trees, plants, and fields of grass that stretched out into the distance.

Yet he didn't take in any of it. All he could see was the burning anger in gray-blues, eyes that were usually steely, reluctant or cold, sometimes narrowed in anger, but never blinded by fury.

He knew he had deserved it. That and more. It was what should have happened when he had first laid eyes on Squall back at the club. He'd had it coming for a long time.

He'd waited for someone to come for him after the war. He had assumed plenty would want to see him hang for his crimes, but no-one had ever come. He'd never hidden or tried to run, nor had he ever pretended to be someone else. If anyone had wanted to find him, then they easily could have. He sighed and fisted his left hand against his leg. Such thoughts were useless. He'd always sworn he'd take whatever punishment came his way; nothing had happened to change that resolution.

Yet he had run. He'd left his apartment in such a hurry he couldn't readily claim it being for any other reason than just getting the hell out of there. Thinking back on Squall's stark movements as the brunet had retreated to the bathroom, he could only try and excuse his own disappearance as a way of doing Squall a favor. The brunet obviously hadn't wanted to be in his company anymore. But he couldn't ignore the truth of the matter. When it came down to it, he had wanted only to avoid witnessing more of that unadulterated anger, that barely concealed hatred. Self-preservation had seized him in the end. It seemed when confronted like that, he wasn't able to take his punishment in the graceful manner he'd always imagined. Clenching his jaws, he pushed away the thoughts in an effort to empty his mind.

A flash of kiss-swollen lips turned upwards at the corners in a small smile and gray-blue eyes filled with rare tranquility made his chest constrict with a need to reclaim those moments. Clenching his hands once more, he felt anger at himself for even thinking of Squall like that. He_ couldn't_ remember those things. He just_ couldn't_. He hadn't earned those memories. They weren't _his_.

Opening the door, he stepped outside and slammed it shut behind him. He needed fresh air. In long strides he entered the park, not taking in any of the greenery surrounding him nor noting where he was going. He continued forward aimlessly, focused on nothing but getting away from memories best left alone.

For a long time he carried on down one path and then the next. Passing people, mere shapes and obstacles in his peripheral vision, he kept going until he had been walking on green grass for several minutes, the city noises slowly receding into the background.

If only he'd been on time. If only he'd been at Pulse when he had planned on being there. Why did fate have to continuously deal him such a shitty hand? Just when he thought he had turned his life around, just when he had resigned himself to the fact that he'd never be the hero or great fighter he'd always dreamed of, he had been pulled straight back into the past and placed face to face with the one person who could undo it all.

He'd wanted to give Squall whatever he had wanted from him, but instead he'd returned to old patterns and had taken offense when Squall hadn't treated him exactly how he had wanted him to. He had reverted to the immature bully of his teenage years within the blink of an eye, easily forgetting that he owed the brunet everything. That he _lived_ because the man had spared his life. And how had he repaid him? By seducing him and fulfilling one of his own fantasies without any care for what Squall wanted. Whatever he did, his egomania would always be at the center of it. Everybody had to bow down to the great Seifer Almasy. In the end, he hadn't learned a thing. He was still the same prideful, self-centered bastard he'd always been.

Running a hand through his hair, another side of him, a part of him that had thus fair remained silent, chimed in. Squall had been the one to suggest they talk then speak no more than a few words and refuse to talk about even the most mundane of things. Squall had also been the one to decide to accept the Avalanche; no one had forced the brunet to do anything. And yes, what had happened might have screwed up Squall's relationship with Rinoa, but maybe what they had going hadn't been all roses to begin with. Seifer couldn't have known Rinoa would find out. He couldn't have known the brunet would take the drug or would even respond to any of his advances. _Why _had Squall reacted like that? Had it purely been the drug's effects? Could Avalanche make you feel pleasure from something that disgusted you?

Confused, Seifer stopped in his tracks. Maybe Squall hadn't been completely averse to what had happened, but it had still been _wrong _on so many levels. In the end, he couldn't really blame anyone but himself. He'd known what the drug did and had still offered it to the brunet. He'd known he wouldn't be able to control himself. He'd known something was still going on between Squall and Rinoa.

Mind coming full circle, with no clearer idea of what to do, he sighed in resignation. He'd have to leave soon. Arc was expecting him at two and if he didn't want to be late, he'd have to start finding his way back to his car. Taking in his surroundings, he scanned the environment for a landmark that would lead him back to the parking lot.

* * *

**[Arc Balios' Weapon Shop, Thursday, 16th of October, 8:13 pm]**

Cursing, Seifer eyed the bright piece of heated metal in annoyance. About to snap, he strode over to the slack tub and forced the hot piece into the cold water, fed up with his inability to produce anything worthwhile. He'd already managed to get several slight burns and one very sore finger. Ignoring the piece he had been working on, he ran a gloved hand through his hair in frustration, not caring about traces of soot clinging to blond strands.

At least Arc wasn't there to witness his blunders anymore. When the older man had been working by his side earlier, it hadn't taken long for the man to pick up on his restless frame of mind. He had sensed appraising eyes following his every move. Within half an hour of arriving at the workshop, he had managed to spill oil on a blueprint, start work on a wrong weapon and bend the handle of a dagger into entirely the wrong shape. Things hadn't really picked up since then either. In fact, he was rather certain he'd managed to set Arc back at least a couple of days without producing anything substantial in return. And just as he thought he'd finally _undone_ the mess he'd made of the dagger, he'd made _another_ fucking blunder and accidentally used the wrong punch, effectively ruining the design that had been part of the order.

Grimacing, he took off his work gloves and placed them on one of the messy surfaces. He'd had enough. He would come in early and try to fix his mistakes tomorrow. All day, his mind had sorted through memories of the previous night, leaving him unable to focus on what he was supposed to. His frustration escalating steadily throughout the day, he could only think of one place to go. He needed to exercise and focus on nothing but his blade.

Closing up the work shop, he made sure everything was where it should be and switched off the light as he walked through the door at the far end of the room, leading to Arc's attached residence. Walking through the small utility room, he entered the kitchen. At the old wooden table propped up right next to a wall, Arc was eating his dinner whilst making notes on some schematics.

"Hey," Seifer greeted, his eyes meeting Arc's briefly, "I'm heading off."

The old man didn't say anything in reply, just kept studying the blond, his lined face locked in contemplation. After deliberating with himself for short seconds, he nodded in the direction of the two pots still placed on top of the stove and then to the seat across from him at the table.

Relaxing somewhat from his tense pose, Seifer walked over to a cupboard and got out a plate before helping himself to some of the leftovers. Sitting down at the table, he eyed the food for a long while before tucking in.

"This is the Valkyrie blaster edge I wanted you to do the finishing touches on. The buyer will be picking it up Tuesday afternoon. I've already finished the basics, but I need you to make sure it lives up to these specifications and looks exactly like this," the old man said as he pushed the schematics across the table for the blond to take a look at.

Turning the piece of paper around to study as he worked his way through his meal, Seifer didn't notice the old man's attention still on him. Halfway through, he nodded before swallowing. "Sure," he said as he noted the things he'd need to stay on top of. "Should be doable."

"Good," Arc remarked as he leaned back against the wall.

Looking up from the schematics, Seifer finally became aware of the other's gaze still upon him and met it with narrowed eyes, instantly annoyed at the close scrutiny.

The old man moved the technical drawing back to rest next to his empty plate without moving his eyes from Seifer's. "What's up, son?"

Green eyes narrowing further, Seifer averted his gaze as he focused on an old cut in the table, his brow scrunching up as he pondered the man's question. He didn't know what to tell Arc, nor could he promise everything would go back to normal anytime soon.

"Nothing," he said as he brought another spoonful of rice and sauce to his lips, chewing slowly on the bits of mixed in meat. He knew he couldn't fool Arc, but he also knew the man wouldn't pry. Having denied the man a proper answer, he quickly finished his meal, wanting to get out of there.

"I'll be here early tomorrow," he said as he got up from the table and placed his plate in the sink. Arc hummed from behind him in acknowledgement.

Not saying anything further, he moved to the entryway of the small house and exited into the brisk evening air. Making it to his pick up in quick strides, he got in the driver's seat and switched on the engine without any additional thought to the strained atmosphere he'd left behind. His mind was already preoccupied with the same thoughts that had plagued him the entire day.

Fifteen minutes later he pulled up in front of the SCTA, his frustration at the last twenty-four hours not abated in the slightest. As he got out of the car, he slammed the door shut, before walking over to the entrance of the training academy. He wasn't really in the mood to bump into any of his students or deal with any of the other teachers, but he needed the distraction of losing himself to physical exertion badly.

Inside, the foyer was almost empty, only a few students and Madden present in the room. Inwardly relieved he didn't recognize any of the students, he walked up to the reception and nodded at Madden. Continuing through the left hallway, he headed to men's changing rooms, quickly making his way past wooden benches and rows of lockers when he entered. At the other end of the large room, he pushed open another door labeled with an "Instructors Only" sign.

Stopping in front of a dark blue locker with his surname displayed on it, Seifer punched in his key code and waited for the sound of the hydraulic lock releasing. Quickly, he grabbed one of his uniforms and walked over to the changing area of the room.

Suited up with Kronos in hand, he stood leaning against the doorframe of the gunblade training room short minutes later. Healey's class was already well under way. Some of the students had noticed Seifer and whispers quickly made their way through the room like ripples, curious eyes shifting his way in a predictable pattern. Remaining silent, he didn't meet any of their gazes, instead kept his eyes trained on the couple sparring in the middle of the room, the two boys receiving running feedback from the substitute instructor.

Noticing the growing inattentiveness of his students, Healey turned around and upon spotting Seifer sent the man a curt nod before turning back around without as much as a word. They'd never gotten along well, their ways of teaching differing vastly and clashing whenever one had to take over from the other. Where Seifer seemed to be a proponent of tough love, Healey found the best results came from support and praise. He believed pointing out students' mistakes only disheartened them and made them lose confidence.

Watching for a long while as the lesson unfolded, Seifer noticed things weren't looking quite as bleak as he'd originally imagined. When the students were told to pair up and practice the techniques Healey had gone over at the beginning of the lesson, he was even halfway impressed. Of course, the students would have performed even better if he had taught them the moves himself, but for a mediocre gunblader teaching them, the results weren't half bad. If only the man would stop teaching them useless parries that looked good in theory but would never be anywhere near useful in the real world, then _maybe_ they would get somewhere. That and actually grow some balls and tell the students when they fucked up. Moves that seemed like innocent mistakes in class could easily lead to death in the field.

Engrossed in scrutinizing his student's techniques, he almost didn't notice when another person stopped to lean against the door frame right next to him. Turning his head slightly in the direction of the other man, he wasn't surprised to see Calder at his side. Nodding in greeting, he returned his gaze to his favorite students, taking enjoyment in watching their confident moves. Vaguely wondering if any of the instructors back at Garden had ever watched himself and Squall spar and derived any satisfaction from such a sight, his eyes became distant.

"I knew you'd be here," Calder said in a low voice.

Seifer hummed in response, his eyes returning to the pair of fighters that were concentrated solely on each other. "Sorry about last night," he said as he pushed away from the door frame and turned to walk down the empty hallway, fully expecting Calder to follow him.

Even though he'd only been in Seifer's presence for less than a minute, Calder knew something was up, the reserved look to green eyes quickly clueing him in. "You'd better be," he spoke, attempting to make light of the situation, but he was no less concerned when the blond's eyes only narrowed further in thought. He looked the blond over more carefully. "What happened?" he asked as his brow scrunched up in disquiet.

"It doesn't matter," the blond said, dismissing Calder's inquiry. "You ready to spar?" he asked instead, his eyes moving to regard the simplistic gunblade held in the man's hand.

"Sure," Calder replied, his concern not diminishing at the way green eyes seemed to be avoiding him and eyed his blade almost vacantly. This was a new side to Seifer; one he'd never encountered before. The blond was always armed with a cocky or flirty remark, never silent or evasive.

"It's good to see you," Calder added, attempting to ease the tension that had settled between them, but was left puzzled when green eyes didn't seem to respond to his words.

Walking ahead, Seifer led them to the main training hall. He didn't know what to say, only knew he had to fight and focus on sparring and nothing else. He needed to be rid of the images that kept plaguing his mind. When the two of them finally reached an unused spot in the large training hall, he distanced himself and as soon as he was far enough away to gain enough force behind his attack, he lunged at Calder.

Their spar went by as usual with Seifer quickly gaining the upper hand. He was used to holding back just to prolong their fight. No one at the SCTA came close to his level. Calder was actually one of the better gunbladers there, but the man's skill was still a far cry from what he had been used to with Squall. The man's stamina, on the other hand, he couldn't complain about. They could go on for what felt like forever and even if he was left wanting on the fighting side, he'd always get a good workout.

Sweating profusely, hours later, he placed his uniform on one of the lower shelves of his locker. With a grimace, he grabbed hold of his clothes from earlier and put them on. He didn't like sweating them up, but he didn't have any other choice; bringing a towel had been the last thing on his mind when he'd left his apartment earlier that day.

After their spar, Calder had invited him to spend the night at the guy's place. He'd immediately refused, not needing any time to consider it. One way or another, he had to face everything that had happened. With a short shove to the door of his locker, he waited for it to lock up before leaving the instructors' changing room.

When he spotted Calder's gym bag and clothes strewn over one of the benches, he inadvertently cast a glance over his shoulder in the direction of the communal showers. Usually the two of them would walk out together, but he didn't have the patience to wait for Calder to finish up. Picking up his stride, without another look back, he left the changing rooms and with the barest of nods in Madden's direction as he passed the reception desk, he exited the SCTA.

Once inside his car, cold lingered around him, the last rays of sunlight lost beneath the stretch of the horizon hours ago. Placing his keys in the ignition, he hesitated as the image of gray-blue eyes glaring at him in unbridled fury appeared once more. The all too vivid memory had formed in his mind countless times already that day, and it seemed it wouldn't leave him alone. He couldn't help but wonder if a repeat would be likely in the near future, though his logic told him Squall would have left. There was no reason for Squall to stay. If Squall had wanted to cause him more harm, then the guy would have done so when he'd had the chance. With that in mind, he turned on the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot.

Temporarily distracted by traffic, he had a brief moment of respite before his thoughts once more drifted back to the brunet. Even if he never wanted to see Squall again, the thought also left him feeling strangely hollow. Cursing inwardly at himself for the unwanted sentiment, he frowned and tried to renew his focus on the electric lights whizzing by, but it was useless, his thoughts stuck in a vicious circle.

Though he'd never told the guy as much or let it show, he'd always enjoyed Squall's company—even if the guy could be a pissy anal bastard at times. The years he'd spent training with Squall, the two of them locked in constant rivalry, had by far been the best. But life had changed. He'd failed to become a SeeD even though he had felt he'd been on the right track and that he'd deserved a place in their ranks. But no one else had agreed. That was what had caused his first misstep of many. His first step away from Garden and Squall. Now they were mere strangers.

No. Squall wouldn't stay.

When he pulled in across from his apartment building, he remained sitting in the darkness of his car for long minutes. He knew the reality of returning home wasn't going to be pleasant. The thought of Squall being there, waiting for him left him with a feeling of dread, but the thought of his apartment being empty was just as unwelcome. Coming to the conclusion that he'd just have to deal with it either way, he got out of the driver's seat and made his way to his apartment.


	9. Old Scars

**~ Chapter Nine - Old Scars ~**

* * *

**[Seifer Almasy's Apartment, ****Zayin Ho****use****,****Friday****, 17th of October, 12:14 am]**

Squall was bored out of his mind. Time seemed to crawl by even slower when he checked his cell phone every other minute, so he had stopped looking at it a while back. Keeping to the living room, his phone abandoned on the kitchen counter and no daylight to indicate how much time was passing, he had decided not knowing exactly how long Seifer was making him wait would help keep his frustration in check. That had been the theory at least.

Within a couple of hours he had exhausted every possible source of entertainment in Seifer's apartment. Feeling increasingly stifled in the small space, he had paced around to try and calm himself and when that hadn't worked, he tried to fall asleep on the couch in an attempt to escape his own mind and get some much needed rest. But relaxing proved impossible, the lingering presence of Seifer in the room enough to keep him from falling asleep, no matter how tired he was.

In a final desperate act to break the monotony of waiting for Seifer to return, he had started to skim through some of the man's books. Those on gunblades hadn't held his interest for long, nothing new in their pages for him to learn. Books on crafts such as forging or inlay techniques were fascinating in ways, but too technical for a leisurely read-through, so they'd quickly found their way back onto the shelves.

A book titled _Ballistics and the Art of Designing Projectile Weaponry_ now rested in his lap, his fingers absentmindedly flipping the pages every few seconds. It lay open on a section concerning crossbows, but he had stopped taking anything in since the moment his eyes caught sight of a picture of the outdated pinwheel model a few chapters earlier. Little was needed to veer his thoughts down unwanted paths.

Boomerangs with propulsion mechanics, like the pinwheel, were fairly easy to handle and had been the best choice for Rinoa during the war, the girl inexperienced in battle and not especially strong, but having decent enough aim to compensate for what she lacked in training. Now the weapon, along with newer upgraded versions, lay in a box at the bottom of a closet. Towards the conclusion of the war she had relied more and more on her newfound sorceress powers and her boomerangs became unnecessary. After the war she kept up her training regime for a short while, but in the end admitted she only did so because of Squall, because of what he would think. When he reassured her it didn't matter, she had quit.

Brought up with such principles as respect for your weapon, the sight of that cardboard box always stirred contradicting feelings in him. On one hand it relieved him that Rinoa was no longer involved in life-threatening situations, warranting the use of weapons; on the other hand it only served to emphasize how different their lives had become. They had been the closest during wartime, a somewhat disturbing thought.

Flipping over another page, his eyes fell to a sketch of a pistol crossbow, but he couldn't focus on it. His thoughts no longer adhered to his attempts to keep them in check after hours of boredom and lingered on his sorceress, when suddenly faint footsteps sounded from beyond the front door. They drew nearer, grew louder and stopped only for a slight moment, before he heard the sound of a key turning in the lock behind him.

Stiffening instantly, all thoughts of Rinoa effectively interrupted, he stilled his hands against the pages of the book. It took all his willpower not to turn around and watch Seifer enter the apartment. His pulse quickened as his body tensed instinctively in response to a situation that could easily turn violent. From the corner of his eyes, he immediately registered the gunblade in Seifer's hands.

Making his way to the kitchen counter, Seifer suppressed any outward reaction. Even before he opened the door to the apartment, he knew Squall was there. The light had been on, but more so, he'd _felt_ it. Uncertain of what to expect, he schooled his expression. He would let Squall take the lead. If Squall wanted to beat him up, he'd take the beating. If Squall wanted to talk, he'd talk. Whatever the brunet wanted from him, he'd do his best to comply.

Placing Kronos on the kitchen counter, Seifer paused momentarily. Squall hadn't moved from his position on the couch. When Seifer turned around to face the brunet, he froze into place, one of his eyebrows quirking upwards. Squall was wearing nothing but a pair of too large boxers and a T-shirt Seifer easily recognized as his own.

"You're still here," he said after a moment, his voice weary. Squall was watching him closely through narrowed eyes, but it was hard to take the half-dressed man seriously, even when everything about that moment in time screamed severity.

"I thought I was free to stay," Squall stated dryly, straining to keep the resentment from seeping into his voice. Hours of waiting hadn't tempered his anger, and upon seeing Seifer's face, the blond looking as if he got tired just at the sight of him, he decided to call Seifer out on his cowardice. "You were quick to leave earlier."

"I had somewhere I needed to be," Seifer immediately said. Realizing just how untrue those words were and how he had pretty much bolted from the apartment earlier that day, he brought up a hand to rake through his hair and averted his eyes.

"Not for another hour," Squall answered succinctly, irked by the blatant lie and even more so by Seifer's uncharacteristic refusal to meet his gaze. He needed the man to acknowledge the situation, to acknowledge _him_, instead of just _standing_ there. Accusation crept into his voice. "Seems like running away has become second nature to you since the war."

At the cold statement, Seifer stood stunned, feeling as if someone had him in a chokehold. He had no idea what Squall thought of him after the war, nor had he ever wanted to find out, but the realization that Squall saw him as nothing but a coward made a heavy weight settle in his chest. Attempting to focus on anything but the harsh words, he replayed Squall's other statement in his mind instead.

"How—" he started, but faltered, his brows knitting together

"You had a visitor," Squall dismissed the unfinished question. Thrown off by Seifer's subdued behavior, his anger started to deflate, making it increasingly hard to maintain a cold tone of voice. "Now would be a good time to explain yourself."

Seifer's eyes rose to meet Squall's at the firm demand. "I already told you what there is to know."

At the solemn look to green eyes, Squall realized Seifer actually _believed_ what he was saying, that there was nothing left to discuss. Abandoning his confrontational attitude, in spite of what years of experience with the blond had taught him, he reined in the bite to his words.

"...You haven't told me a thing. In the end I'm always left to guess after your reasons."

Seifer let out a huff. "That's rich, Squall... real rich, coming from you." He narrowed his eyes in scrutiny. "But okay... if that's how you want to play it, ask me whatever it is you want to know." His words grew harsher by the second, twisted into a challenge at the end.

"Don't turn this into some game," Squall warned, too tired to comply with Seifer's terms. "... I don't understand you or the things you do.

The dangerous glint to jade eyes instantly disappeared at the softly spoken words. "That makes two of us," Seifer supplied under his breath before sighing and taking off his coat. Already exhausted from a long day and still reeking from his workout at the SCTA, he was reluctant to continue the conversation. "Look, Squall, I—" he started, turning to look at Squall. "Do you mind if I take a shower before we continue this?"

Squall took in the blond's appearance. Seifer's tired expression more so than his sweaty appearance caused him to softly shake his head, signaling he didn't mind. He had gotten Seifer to meet him halfway, or to at least acknowledge his presence, but already he felt like he'd had to battle for the small concession. A moment of reprieve didn't seem like a bad idea.

Silently, he watched as Seifer turned around and disappeared into the bedroom without another word, the blond apparently needing the time-out just as much as he did.

Inside the bathroom, Seifer quickly disrobed and got under the hot spray of water, the brunet waiting for him in his living room distracting him from the simple task of scrubbing himself down. He still couldn't believe Squall had stayed. Even though he felt dread at their conversation to come, some of the emptiness he'd felt when walking down the hall to his apartment had disappeared. This was his chance to make up for some of his wrongs. It was obvious Squall wanted something from him, answers by the sound of it, and those he could give.

Switching off the flow of water, he began to towel himself dry in quick abrasive moves. He felt urgency spurring him on, as if a moment spent lingering would suddenly make Squall disappear. The fear was absurd; Squall had stayed in his apartment all day and wasn't exactly dressed to leave, but he hurried all the same.

With a towel wrapped around his waist, he began rifling through the drawers in his bedroom. Exchanging the damp towel for a pair of loose fitting boxers, he searched for a shirt next, when an idea occurred to him. Mind stuck on the playful train of thought, he picked out a large white cotton tee, donned it and left the bedroom.

"Thought I'd even out the battlefield," he commented with a lopsided smirk, enjoying the slight rise to fine eyebrows as Squall watched his approach from the couch.

As Seifer sat down next to him, Squall struggled to keep surprise from showing on his face. He'd been trying to steel himself for serious conversation, but the sight of the underdressed blond managed to undo the entire effort, the change from solemn to playful too abrupt to process.

Realizing he'd been silent for too long, he willed himself to stop feeling self-conscious and resolutely stomped out his sudden discomfort at only wearing boxers and a shirt. It had never mattered before, and it shouldn't matter now.

"You don't have a washing machine, not even any detergent," he explained, fixing the blond with a halfhearted glare and growing even more unimpressed when the blonde just grinned at him.

"I'll do it tomorrow. Need to clean those sheets as well," Seifer said, not giving much thought to where those traitorous words would lead both of their minds.

Acutely aware of the fact that both of them were thinking about exactly the same thing, a mix of embarrassment and heat caused an uncomfortable jolt in the pit of Squall's stomach. He sincerely hoped that Seifer's continued silence meant the inappropriateness of such a remark had caught up with the blond. If they were going to have a proper conversation, he could do without unwanted images of Seifer surfacing in his mind. Fighting to keep his features neutral, he stared straight ahead. He didn't care to know the kind of expression the blond had when thinking of them in bed.

The minutes dragged on as Seifer waited for Squall to say something. His hand traveled idly to scratch at his neck. He didn't know _what_ Squall wanted. He knew Squall wanted answers, but not to which questions. He'd already told Squall everything there was to know about what he'd done that morning, so it couldn't be that. Unless Squall wanted him to elaborate.

Or it could be about the war. Frowning at the mere thought, he tried to ignore the notion altogether. He wouldn't know where to begin if that was the case.

When neither of them spoke up, Squall quickly grew frustrated with Seifer's return to his atypically passive behavior. The blond obviously wasn't going to start talking any time soon, effectively ruining his hope that maybe he'd be spared the trouble of finding something to say first. He was neither adept at starting personal conversations nor very used to the act, especially with so much at stake.

He had been mistaken when he had thought himself capable of bringing up Seifer's offer of Avalanche, his reaction to the blond's earlier words having made that painfully clear, which left asking about the war. But the questions he wanted to ask were too blunt and didn't exactly qualify as "breaking the ice". He'd never bothered with such pretenses before, but something about the atmosphere seemed dangerously fragile. Not wanting to risk Seifer getting fed up with the suffocating silence that had settled between them, he resorted to the next best thing he could think of.

"... What is it that you do in Esthar?" he asked awkwardly, discomfort written all over his features at having to instigate the exchange, "You modify weapon parts for a living?"

"Seriously Squall? _That's_ what you want to talk about?" When Squall fixed him with a glare in return, Seifer just sighed and shrugged, deciding to humor the man.

"Fine," he said, stalling as he considered how much to share. "Like I told you, I'm not really here much. I survive on the Gil I get from collecting materials, so I'm out of town quite often. Apart from that, I spend most of my time learning how to make weapons at a local weaponsmith and when I'm not doing that, I'm most likely at the Tiamat SCTA."

Features thoughtful and eyes vacant, Squall forgot about his unease as he took in the information. He wasn't surprised to hear Seifer hadn't been idle. For as long as he could remember, the blond always had several projects going on at the same time, ranging from part-time jobs to more illicit pastimes. The short explanation sparked an entire array of new questions as he wondered about what kind of materials the blond gathered and for whom, about what had brought the man to pick up manufacturing weapons instead of the more obvious mercenary profession.

Connecting the mention of the SCTA with the blond's sweaty appearance upon returning, he concluded the place had to be where Seifer preferred to train. No matter how unlikely it was for them to ever test their skills in a friendly fight again, he felt strangely relieved that the only real sparring partner he'd ever had still trained and was in excellent shape by the looks of things.

Eyeing the gunblade on the kitchen counter, a model he didn't recognize, the next question that formed in his mind seemed to take precedence over all the others. "Where's Hyperion?"

"At the academy," Seifer replied indifferently. "I keep all my old models there."

"Why?"

"I'm more there than here," was the simple reply. "And the brats seem to love using them for practice."

Staring at Seifer, Squall's eyebrows rose slightly at the answer. "You let _brats_ handle _Hyperion_," he stated dryly, as if trying out how that bit of sacrilege tasted on his tongue. Unable to come to a satisfactory conclusion, his eyes suddenly narrowed in recollection.

"Your earlier visitor was some brat," he informed, his tone of voice betraying just exactly what he thought of said brat.

After a moment of thought, Seifer grinned knowingly and chuckled. "I should've known Nolan would drop by." The boy always did when Seifer returned after a long trip out, eager to get his hands on any spare materials. Remembering Squall's insinuation that he wasn't showing his blade the proper amount of respect, he frowned. "And come off it Squall. I don't let anyone touch the beauty lying up there. But Hyperion... Hyperion is history."

The sudden sting caused by the finality of Seifer's statement pulled Squall straight out of his train of thought. Falling silent, a hollow feeling settled in his chest. He had stuck with his two gunblades: Lionheart for when he needed an edge, and Revolver when he wanted to lose himself in training. Both held sentimental value, in spite of the blood he'd shed wielding them. Maybe _because_ of the blood he'd shed wielding them. They had faced the things he had, had locked in battle against Hyperion and had helped him survive through it all. The thought of retiring either blade had never crossed his mind.

"…History," he echoed faintly, the weight of _their_ history bleeding into the softly spoken word. The implications seemed obvious enough. Seifer had moved on and he... The fact that he was still sitting on that couch after everything that had happened clearly meant he hadn't.

It didn't take Seifer long to catch on to what Squall meant by the remark. Squall meant the war, _them_; everything that had happened between them. It _was_ history, and history he would rather forget.

The air turned thick and oppressive, almost suffocating, as his memories resurfaced. He was ashamed of what he'd done. Squall's earlier accusation repeated loudly in his mind. "I didn't run," he said in a low voice. He knew he most likely wouldn't be able to change Squall's mind, but he had to try and make the man understand.

He hated that Squall viewed him as a coward. He hadn't left to avoid punishment for what he'd done or because he had been afraid of facing anyone. After time compression he'd been dead to the world for almost a month. Raijin and Fujin had taken care of him during that time and when he'd finally come to, it hadn't been in a prison or with anyone demanding retribution. Going back to face the people he hurt during the war seemed pointless by then. They'd be much better off never seeing him again.

"What choice was left for me?" he asked after a pregnant pause, not really expecting an answer. "I knew my days at Garden were over the minute I left for Timber... The teachers hated me. The students hated me. I failed _three times_."

His expression turned troubled, his eyebrows scrunching together in thought. He hadn't meant to expose himself that much. Resigning himself to just tell Squall whatever felt right and then let the man be the judge, he continued. "What was I supposed to do, Squall? ...After you defeated her... was I supposed to _come back_? To the place she nearly had me destroy?"

Surprised at the offered words, Squall shook his head after a moment of contemplation. It was a weak excuse, sounding almost as if the blond wanted to invoke pity, which couldn't be right. Squall didn't do pity, not for himself, not for anyone else. There was only responsibility and the choice to take it or not. Regarding Seifer with serious eyes, a slight frown in place, he voiced his thoughts.

"You _did_ run away... Not from some life you didn't want or a place that wouldn't welcome you back... You ran from the people you owed an explanation."

"Who'd listen to what I had to say? No one did before the war... why would they care after?" Seifer asked, an edge of bitterness creeping into his voice at Squall still stating he had run.

"That's it? Nobody ever cared, so that excuses you?" Squall replied grimly, instinctively reacting to the resentment lacing Seifer's words. "To this day I don't know what possessed you to do what you did... Why you..."

Trailing off, he had a difficult time keeping his neutral mask in place. Nobody had cared about him either, back then, but he hadn't run off after a sorceress, hadn't killed indiscriminately or raided villages in retaliation. _Or tortured._

Jaws clenching, he abruptly turned his gaze away from the ex-knight and nearly stared a hole into the coffee table as he tried to shake the memory of green eyes staring at him with acidic loathing, shattering pain tearing through him as the blond's hand rose in signal.

It wasn't until that first jolt of electricity that he had realized Seifer _would_ kill him when ordered to. Disbelief had quickly been followed by an intense feeling of betrayal that was disproportionate considering they hadn't even been friends. He'd never cared about what anyone thought of him before, but the unadulterated hatred he had seen in Seifer's eyes had _hurt_, the moment frozen in his memory with sharp clarity.

Realizing this wasn't as much about what he had or hadn't done as much as Squall's need to understand, Seifer briefly closed his eyes. Maybe on some level that was part of why he hadn't returned. Apart from an apology, he didn't have anything to offer. He couldn't explain it, he couldn't justify it, it was just the way things had happened.

"The answer you're looking for isn't that simple. And no, it didn't excuse me. I know nothing ever could," he said, his words slow and measured.

Hearing the defeat in Seifer's voice, Squall turned his gaze back to the blond. As he studied the ex-knight's face, everything about the blond too disparate from his memories of the war, Squall remembered the strange apology and equally somber expression Seifer had worn the evening before. Though it all basically amounted to an admission of guilt, the way Seifer was behaving told him there had to be more to it. As he had feared.

Eyes taking on an unwavering edge, he banned the possible implications from his mind and focused on getting the truth, however ugly. "Nothing about the war was simple. A lot of things weren't as they seemed," he stated firmly. "I don't want easy answers. I want to understand."

Seifer didn't move his gaze to meet Squall's. Instead he leaned forward and with his elbows resting on his knees, he wove his fingers through his hair. He didn't want to return to those memories. Not fully. Even blurry flashes of what he'd done made his stomach roll.

Remembering that first moment when he'd encountered Ultimecia back in Timber, he felt bile rise at the back of his throat. If only he hadn't gone. But by then he'd realized Garden was no longer the place for him, and confident in his knowledge that Squall and the two other rookie SeeDs assigned to Rinoa's mission wouldn't succeed, he decided the least he could do when starting out his new life was to help his ex-fling and outshine his old rival. The irony of pushing Rinoa into the hands of a sadistic sorceress and Squall saving her wasn't lost on him. But those were just a few of the many memories that haunted him.

Brown lifeless eyes stared back at him as he watched blood trickle from the still fresh wound—a perfect gash he had cut deep into the cadet's throat. He'd recognized the boy and knew he'd been recognized too. They'd sparred a couple of times at a gunblade training camp a few of years back.

More images of unmoving bodies followed, all slain down in the name of his mistress. He'd always been quick about it, unless she had demanded... more. Assaulted by the familiar waves of emotions that surfaced whenever he lingered too long the past, his body grew heavy. He closed his eyes. "I—" he started, but he couldn't continue when the image of charred corpses thrown onto piles formed behind closed lids. The putrid stench of rotting flesh mixed in with the sweet smell of burned skin was still too clear. It made him want to stop breathing just to escape it.

"I just—" he tried, but the words still wouldn't come. Everything _ached_. Everything was _wrong_, and it would never be anything but. The only way he had managed to get through so far was by ignoring the past. "I can't," he said simply, the words barely audible.

Squall didn't dare disrupt the blond's internal struggle, his own disquiet mounting at seeing Seifer's entire body slumped forward, turning in on itself in an unmistakably defensive move. Green eyes wrenched closed one second and stared at nothing with a haunted gaze the next, the man's white-knuckled grip on blond hair tightening. He'd seen a lot of things during his time as commander and he knew what trauma looked like, what it _felt_ like. In that moment he _knew_ his doubts had been right, and the realization chilled him to the bone.

He didn't understand _how_, though. Matron had been possessed, an entirely different and unrecognizable persona, but Seifer had been himself. Or at least that was how it had seemed at first. The blond had known who he was fighting, had recognized each of them, but that hadn't stopped him. Ultimecia had done something else to Seifer, Squall realized. Confronted with the blond's naked distress, he was afraid to hear exactly what.

Tempering the memories that were still too raw, Seifer let out a heavy sigh. He knew Squall deserved some kind of explanation, yet he never expected the man to need it. Squall's behavior made a lot more sense now. That's what Squall had wanted back when they'd first met: the answer to why his sparring partner and rival throughout his teens had turned into a monster. Steeling himself, Seifer forced his next word past reluctant lips. "Okay."

Sitting entirely still with his eyes closed, he fought the urge to get the hell out of there. He'd never spoken to anyone about what had happened during the war, not even Raijin and Fujin. After the war, after he'd come to, they'd simply avoided the topic. They had acted like nothing had happened and had continued on with a clear focus on the future instead. On a rare occasion they had spoken of people they'd known before the war and even then Raijin and Fujin had been careful with which names to mention. Whenever an unfortunate one slipped by, they had looked almost apologetic.

He hadn't told Calder either. Nor Arc. Not a single person. He knew he wouldn't have been able to start over if he had, and since no one had wanted him dead or thrown into jail, he'd decided to make the most of his life. He couldn't have done that with the overwhelming burden of his past weighing down his every step. Squall would be the first one he'd tell. After tonight he'd leave it all behind again.

"I'm not proud of what I did," he said, wanting to make that perfectly clear from the start. Whatever Squall would make of his words, he didn't want him to think he looked back on any of it fondly.

"At the time it seemed like the obvious thing to do... I felt important, respected... understood. She wanted me as her _knight_. _Wanted me_. No one had ever wanted me before. And Garden... Garden was no longer an option."

Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, he paused. He didn't like admitting that his base need to be wanted and needed had been at the root of it all. That and his vanity.

"I knew everyone would envy me. The valiant knight, Seifer Almasy." He snorted at the irony of those words. "She never told me what her plan was. Not in the beginning at least. I just followed her blindly, tried to prove my worth."

There was another long pause as he searched for words to explain things he had only considered before and never spoken out loud.

"We were brought up to fight anyone for the right amount of money. Doing it for power and fame didn't seem that much different. But it was weird fighting you and the others. Something didn't feel right, but at the time it seemed inconsequential."

At the beginning he really hadn't noticed anything different. It was only gradually that he became aware some of his thoughts weren't truly _his_. He didn't know how to describe it. Because it all came from within his own mind, he had just slowly accepted that maybe he _did_ like forcing information out of people and that maybe he _did_ hate Garden and SeeD. After all, he'd never fit in, so growing resentment would only be natural. And he had always liked to show he was the one in control, so what did a little pain matter?

It had started out like that—small changes that had seemed plausible, merely new facets to his personality that he hadn't really _liked_ as much as accepted. He didn't know how to explain it to Squall though. Words were failing him, and it didn't help that a large part of him wanted to let it all remain unsaid in the first place.

"It's hard to distinguish my own thoughts from hers. My own memory. My own will," he spoke in a low voice, finally finding _some_ words. He wasn't sure they were the right ones or if they got what he felt and remembered across, but they were the only ones he could speak.

He'd been surprised one day when he'd felt the inexplicable urge to just have his mistress right then and there. Sexual urges had never been part of his life back then. After his failed experiences with Fujin and Rinoa he had simply sublimated any sexual frustration into sparring with Squall. In the beginning he had been conscious of it; his shift from needing sexual release to taking it out on his rival. But in the end he'd stopped feeling that initial need to vent and had started to only feel the need to spar.

Yet he hadn't questioned the urge when it had reappeared, he had only been surprised at the newfound lust. And it only made sense when his mistress eagerly gave in to him. After all, who else would she want?

He hung his head lower. He didn't want to tell these things to Squall, yet knew he had to if he was to make him understand. "She made me find pleasure in the most disgusting things. It was like I was reduced to primal urges. Anger, greed, lust, envy, pride... Whenever her influence receded, my body would be drained and I'd feel sick. I didn't want to keep on going. I just wanted it all to go away. I couldn't stand the thought that she'd come back for more."

That was how he'd finally realized something was wrong and that some of the things he'd noticed changing hadn't been entirely himself. He didn't know what had caused it or why it had happened, but in the span of a minute, total clarity had taken hold of him, the veil of his mistress' influence lifting. In that moment he had understood everything; how all he had done was sick and disgusting and how he had never wanted any of it. But it hadn't lasted long, nor the rare moments of lucidity that had followed. Everything had just become more and more _off._

He moved his fingers to knead at his forehead in an effort to forestall the headache that was building there. As his thoughts and memories led him back to when he'd chained Squall to the prison wall, to when he'd been in charge of torturing the man, his features tightened.

"When you... at D-District..." he started, his voice low and strained. "Her disdain for you consumed me." She had hated Squall. Truly and utterly and without restraint. The first moment of clarity after he'd put Squall through pure cruelty, he no longer doubted something was wrong. Regardless of having ended up on different sides of the war, torturing one of the few people he ever cared about told him his mind wasn't right.

"When you were on that cross... it felt amazing. It was like before, only better. I had absolute power over you. Even though you had everything I'd ever wanted. Everything I'd worked for. It didn't matter. Only _I_ did." Even speaking the words felt traitorous and repulsive. He hated what he'd done, yet he could never forget it. He could never erase those memories.

"I tried to end it after that."

That had been his solution in the end, when everything had become too painful. He tried twice, but his mistress had caught on and had no longer allowed him the periods without her influence. He didn't know why she'd ever allowed those moments in the first place. To show him her power? To show how little control he had? Or just to make him suffer? Whatever the reason, it was obviously no longer worth the risk of losing her lapdog.

"Her bond was too strong. Raijin and Fujin saw it in me. They tried to help."

But by then it was too late. Speaking the words of his mistress, he'd driven them away. It was a wonder they had come back for him in the end; his sorry ass hadn't been worth saving. It took months to even start questioning that belief, to get his life back on track.

"When you defeated her, it hurt like nothing else. It tore my mind apart." His words were laced with remembered pain as he leaned to rest against the couch, his closed eyes facing the ceiling as he tilted his head back. "It's a wonder Raijin and Fujin got to me in time. I still can't remember the first month after time compression."

Not a single memory existed between the end of the war and the moment Fujin had materialized before his eyes as a blur of silver, red, and blue, slowly coming into focus. Her expression changed from stark to relieved as she shouted out Raijin's name and hovered over him all at once. After that, it had taken him almost three weeks to do any normal physical activities or hold Hyperion properly again; weeks that had been filled with reliving memories of what he'd done.

"For a long time I wished you'd killed me in one of our battles. At least then it would have been over."

He hadn't felt like he had deserved to go on, but in the end his survival instincts had kicked in, and he'd started to focus on the simple day-to-day tasks and on getting back into shape. With Ultimecia no longer there to use him, he wouldn't take the coward's way out.

As silence settled between them, he hoped Squall wouldn't ask any questions or want him to elaborate. There wasn't anything left to say, and he didn't want to return to those thoughts any longer. When time stretched on and no questions came, he slowly allowed some of the tension that had built up in his muscles and expression to flow from him, reassured that the conversation was drawing to its close.

Having remained silent throughout Seifer's explanation, Squall sat frozen in place. His mind reeled with taking in the magnitude of what he had just been told. But it was Seifer's last words that had his heart in his throat, tight and painful, as their meaning sank in.

_I wished you'd killed me._ With his gaze glued to Seifer, realization crashed down on him. Images of past fights appeared before his mind's eye. _Hyne, I could have_. All those times after D-District when he had faced the blond with nothing but resentment and dutiful resolve... He had resigned himself to the possibility of having to kill the knight.

He wished he could say Seifer was still alive because he had made the choice deliberately, but he knew that wasn't true. It was sheer luck that he had been able to keep the frenzied ex-knight at bay without needing to inflict lethal injuries. If the others hadn't been there to back him up, he knew he wouldn't have hesitated to resort to more ruthless tactics. If anyone, it was Rinoa that had continued believing in Seifer, right until the end. It was only afterwards, when she had learned of some of the things Seifer had done, that her opinion had started to waver. Ironically enough, that's when his own doubts had started to surface.

He had been so blind.

Too many times he'd been only a heartbeat away from taking Seifer's life, too many last second dodges and parries keeping Lionheart from lodging into the blond's chest. And those were just the times when he had been the one fighting Seifer, other opponents and perils not included. For a moment the unlikely odds of having Seifer alive and sitting next to him choked the air from his lungs, but his relief was quickly replaced with guilt.

All this time he hadn't known what to think, whether he should hate Seifer or himself. He'd hoped his suspicions had been wrong, that he had just been seeing ghosts. He had theorized that maybe he had erroneously read some kind of mutual understanding and tentative companionship where there had been none, distorting his memories of the blond.

However irrational, being the betrayer was the heavier burden. Seifer hating him and fighting him, that he could learn to come to terms with. Having turned his back on Seifer when the blond needed help the most... He couldn't stomach such a thing.

"...I'm sorry..."

"Don't," Seifer said firmly upon hearing the apology. The instant dissuasion was born out of pure reflex, the thought that Squall didn't have _anything_ to apologize for as far as they were concerned deeply ingrained in his mind.

"Just _don't_," he repeated with more force, finally opening his eyes to glare at the ceiling. He _hated_ the upset quality in Squall's voice and he _hated_ that Squall_ dared_ to apologize to him. _He_ was alwaysthe one that screwed up Squall's life, not the other way around. He did _nothing_ but fuck everything up.

"I _hate_ that I keep doing this," he said as he pushed himself up from the couch, his jaws clenching. He needed to get out of there and away from Squall. He couldn't take it if he had to listen to Squall speak another word that wasn't blaming or loathing; he deserved nothing else.

Squall remained absolutely still, his gaze locked on Seifer. The blond's eyes looked like those of a caged animal, searching the room for an escape. Swallowing thickly, he choked on the words lying on his tongue. All he could come up with were words of apology, but none of them mattered, none of them could change a thing.

Troubled beyond words, Seifer headed for the bedroom without as much as a glance in Squall's direction. Getting into a pair of worn dark jeans at record speed, he reemerged moments later, fully dressed.

"I-I need to go..." he said, still unable to meet Squall's gaze as he grabbed his jacket and gunblade. He had to get away.

Unwilling to let Seifer go, Squall rose from the couch reflexively to follow after the blond. But after just one step he came to a stop again, rooted in place by the absolute revulsion and distress on Seifer's face as the man seemed near frantic in his need to be anywhere but near him. That expression told him everything he needed to know. That face was the true extent and nature of his mistakes.

Watching Seifer cross the room in the direction of the front door, he failed to find the words that would make the blond stay. His shoulders slumped, his brow furrowing in sorrow as he realized that this was it. No second chances. Only this feeling of helplessness and regret.

"...Seifer."

The name slipped past his lips almost soundlessly. The blond simply continued on in his determined stride without even the briefest of looks in his direction, either too caught up in his thoughts or ignoring him intentionally. The closing of a door had never sounded so final as it did then.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks again to the wonderful Aera for betaing and a big thanks to everyone who's been kind enough to leave a review as well :)


	10. Worlds Apart

**~ Chapter Ten - Worlds Apart ~**

* * *

**[Seifer Almasy's Apartment, Zayin House, Friday, 17th of October, 12:45 am]**

Squall stared at the front door.

After barely half an hour in his presence, Seifer had left again. Thirty minutes was all the blond had been able to endure. Now that he had a deeper understanding of why the blond had been behaving so strangely around him, so uncharacteristically subdued, he could no longer muster any anger at Seifer's choice to run away.

His eyes remained fixed on the front door while his mind replayed Seifer's words over and over. He couldn't organize the chaos of his thoughts. Instead small revelations came to him one at a time as everything sank in slowly, unforgivingly.

_It's hard to distinguish my own thoughts from hers. My own memory. My own will._

Mind-control. That's what everything Seifer had said boiled down to. That's what Ultimecia had done to him, and it was far worse than possession. From what Matron had told him, the experience had left her with little more than vast blackouts, the time that had been stripped away from her the only cost. She had once admitted that years of fearing the arrival of Ultimecia and the race against time to make the necessary preparations had weighed more heavily on her and her marriage than those three months of possession had.

The same had been true for Rinoa. He could recall her wide, hazel eyes, filled with unshed tears, her arms trembling while refusing to relinquish their hold on him as they sat silently on the bridge of the Ragnarok. They had watched the last dying twitches of the Lunar Cry as it poured down to the surface of the blue planet below, the unnatural and eerie glow of the red moon setting the entire cabin alight, but Rinoa hadn't been able to remember her own part in what had happened—how she had freed Adel and sent the sorceress' broken tomb back down to the planet with that stream of monsters. His fists tightened at the realization that Seifer hadn't been so lucky, that Seifer had been forced to _live _through everything Ultimecia had used him for.

Not knowing was a blessing. He knew that for certain now. Even though both Matron and Rinoa felt guilt over not having enough strength to fight off Ultimecia's intrusion, they would never be burdened by things they couldn't remember doing. Not truly. No one would think to blame them. No one had caused Matron unnecessary stress by filling her in on the more gruesome details of the things Ultimecia had used her for.

No. What Ultimecia had chosen to do to Seifer was much worse. She had kept her knight consciously aware of everything she made him do, while maintaining just enough of the blond's behavioral patterns to prevent anyone from helping him, at least at first. By the time Seifer had seemingly lost his mind at Lunatic Pandora, too much death had been caused by his hands for anyone to _want_ to see his madness as a symptom of something more.

No, that wasn't true.

_Raijin and Fujin saw it in me. They tried to help._

They were the only ones. He had scoffed at such blind loyalty at first and had labeled the tendency of the bizarre duo to jump off after the blond no matter how high the bridge or how deep the fall as stupidity. It was only later he had come to realize that Raijin and Fujin had known damned well what they were doing, more so than anyone else. Now he couldn't be more grateful for that "blind" loyalty. It had saved Seifer's life.

All he had done was push Seifer closer to the ledge. Defeat the sorceress. Defeat the knight. That was all he had seen. That's how much their shared childhood and years of sparring and rivalry had been worth in the end.

_Her disdain for you consumed me. I tried to end it after that._

That meant Seifer hadn't _wanted_ to torture him, right? That the hatred shining darkly in those green eyes hadn't been Seif—

_End it._

Starting from his misplaced relief as the true meaning of those words sank in, their _only_ meaning, Squall slumped back down on the couch. He couldn't imagine it, couldn't wrap his head around a statement that was _wrong_ in so many ways. Someone as headstrong and fearless as Seifer wouldn't just _opt out_. For him to have considered such measures... _No_, to have _attempted_ such measures... Hyne, he didn't know why the attempt had failed, all that mattered was that it _had_.

His heart tight in his chest, Squall felt sick at how those words had actually briefly caused him to feel relief. In light of everything Seifer had told him, D-District was nothing in comparison. Even if Seifer hadn't hated him at the time, he sure had done enough to earn the man's hatred afterwards. Seifer had needed his help, and he had tried to _kill _the blond instead. If he had expected revenge before, then now he was even more confused as to why Seifer hadn't taken the opportunity to settle the score between them.

Remembering how he had broken Seifer's jaw earlier that day, a thought occurred to him. _He_ was the violent one, not Seifer. The assumption that the blond would want revenge in the form of violence was based on how the blond had behaved towards him during the war. When finally face to face, though, Seifer hadn't shown the slightest inclination toward violence. His own contemplations of revenge had been very real however. If Seifer had shown the slightest bit of satisfaction at what had happened during the war...

He was the violent one.

Anything Seifer had done, he had done unwillingly. The same didn't apply to his own actions during the war. Ordered to assassinate a sorceress without any reason as to _why_, he had simply obeyed, unconcerned with the moral implications. At the time he hadn't _known_ this particular sorceress was bad news; he had been told so in very little words and it had been enough to agree to assassination. He would have murdered his Matron at seventeen, unknowingly and uncaring. Always questioning the reasons and the whys, truly thinking for himself—that had been Seifer's strong suit. Not his. He had simply complied with what orders or circumstances had demanded from him.

He had killed Galbadian soldiers unflinchingly. He couldn't really remember which one had been the first, because the act had seemed inconsequential. A man's death had seemed _inconsequential_, and to this day he couldn't say his mindset had changed much when an enemy stood between him and his mission's objective. Detachment. Cold, calculated detachment. Even his eventual resignation to fight and possibly kill Seifer had come with a disturbing lack of hesitance.

He couldn't help but think that if their roles had been reversed, the end result would have been vastly different. Seifer wouldn't have followed the senseless orders he had. The blond would have gotten to the bottom of things, on his own if necessary, just like he had set course for the Dollet communication tower and went to Timber on his own, damned the consequences. If SeeD hadn't ordered retreat but had seized that tower, if Vinzer had been eliminated before he could install Ultimecia at the head of the Galbadian government undemocratically, then the war might have gone drastically differently with a lot less casualties.

Behind Seifer's authority issues lay a sharper mind and keener instincts than anyone had ever given the blond credit for. He, on the other hand, had learned how to fight dirty the hard way, how to think outside the box and question everything at all times. These were things that came naturally to Seifer.

That's why Ultimecia had chosen Seifer, he realized. To use the man's abilities to her advantage, before they would be used against her.

He couldn't process any of it any longer. The implications of everything Seifer had told him were too far-reaching, shedding an entirely new light on the war and his own role in it. He wished that he hadn't asked, that he had never called out after Seifer on the streets. Knowing the truth was useless when there was nothing he could do to change things. All it had amounted to was tearing open old wounds and forcing Seifer to recount memories better left forgotten.

He couldn't stay at Seifer's apartment. The blond had left for the very obvious reason of escaping his presence, and somehow he knew the man wouldn't return as long as he was still there. It wasn't his place to impose on Seifer's home any longer than he already had, on the man's new life. Their dealings with one another would end here; it was the least he could do.

Slowly Squall stirred from where he was standing by the couch, feeling numb and cold. Remembering his state of undress, he moved his eyes from the front door and started to take in his surroundings again. If he was to leave, he'd need _some_ clothing. A simple problem with a simple solution, hardly worth the fuss he'd been making over it earlier that day. At night there wouldn't be many people around to witness his disheveled appearance anyway.

Walking into the bedroom, he gathered his soiled items and got dressed. The borrowed boxers found their way into the bathroom's laundry basket; the borrowed shirt Seifer would just have to miss. Grabbing his cell phone and patting his pockets to make sure his keys were still there, he came to a halt at the front door, hesitating. He felt as if he was fleeing a crime scene.

What was done was done, he reminded himself. No point in looking back and lingering when all that was left of their brief reunion were rumpled sheets and an empty bottle of Galbadian Bluewhistle. All he had to do was close the door behind him and leave.

Easy enough.

Willing himself into action, he stepped outside. As he walked down the hallway and called up the elevator, he quickly stomped out the absurd and pointless thought that now he'd have to sit by Seifer's door when waiting for the man to return. Mouth dry, he crossed the dilapidated looking entrance hall. Within moments, he was standing outside, the chill autumn wind blowing his bangs into his eyes.

Shrugging his arms closer to his body in an effort to keep warm, he walked down the narrow street. There was no point in memorizing the street sign or the address, but he did so anyway. The little piece of information was the only comfort he had as he put more and more distance between himself and Seifer's home.

* * *

**[Rinoa Heartilly and Squall Leonhart's Apartment, Layon Tower, Friday, 17th of October, 1:53 am]**

The underground parking lot was cast in a dim light, the soft hum of the overhead lamps the only discernible sound. Staring at the empty parking space next to his, Rinoa's license plate number labeling it as hers, Squall reminded himself that he had counted on her absence. The plan was to go in while she was away, get what he needed and leave.

Keys in one hand, Rinoa's purse gripped tightly in the other, he crossed the low ceilinged space towards the elevators. Briefly he wondered where she had gone, who she was staying with or whether she was alone, only to immediately frown at his pointless thoughts. Rinoa had plenty of friends in Esthar; she wouldn't be alone if she didn't want to be.

He wondered if Seifer had any places to go to this late at night, when home wasn't an option.

Trying to keep his thoughts from coming, Squall focused on the pull of gravity at the pit of his stomach as the elevator jolted into motion and ascended to the penthouse. No barking followed in greeting as he approached the front door, no sound of paws skidding through the entrance hall towards the stranger on the other side. Apparently Rinoa had taken Angelo with her, which meant she wasn't planning on returning any time soon. He would hurry anyway.

As he unlocked the door and entered, Squall couldn't shake his discomfort at returning there. He felt as if he was stepping into one of Ellone's dreams of the past. One day had changed and ruined so much more than any period of time away on missions ever had. His eyes wandered to the little side table by the door, to where no note would be waiting for him this time around, telling him where Rinoa had gone and for how long. Tearing his gaze away, he made his way up the stairs.

For a little while he stood in the doorway of Rinoa's bedroom without entering. Clothes lay in a messy heap on the bed, no doubt from when she had packed some of her things. Walking over to the vanity table, he was relieved to see that she had taken several of her magic inhibitors. He placed the purse that had been sitting in the backseat of his car on the table and got out the twin bracelets he had tossed in the handbag in his haste. They were the inhibitors that seemed to work best for Rinoa; he hoped she would be fine without them. Placing them in clear sight, along with the pills, he quickly left the room that smelled of a mix of her perfumes, smelled like _her_.

Briskly he made his way to the guest room and closed the door behind him, drinking in the welcoming neutrality of the room. Ignoring the urge to lean against those bland walls and not stir for long minutes, he instead reached for his small duffel bag under the bed. He had brought it with him when he had arrived a few days earlier, but there wasn't much in it, barely two changes of clothing.

Not wasting any time, he filled a second, larger duffel bag with the least offending items he could find in the walk-in closet, not too bothered in his selection when his preferred gear was in his quarters back at Garden anyway. Making quick work of gathering what little possessions he had at the penthouse, he retrieved his uniform, workbag and gunblade cases. Within ten minutes, he was back in the entrance hall.

There was nothing left for him there, no reason to stay. He had switched the lights off, was ready to leave, but as he reached for the doorknob, his hand hesitated and moved for the key in his pocket instead. Slowly he unfurled his fingers, the contour of the key pressed harshly into his palm. He stared at the small piece of metal, realization striking him unexpectedly: attachment, where he thought there hadn't been any.

Not all of it had been bad. He might never have enjoyed his time in Esthar much, and might never have felt like he belonged there, but it was where Rinoa was. Where she had always been, waiting for him. Her presence had provided him with anchorage whenever he had needed it; she had given him a place of normalcy he could always return to. Even when things had been at their bleakest between them, she had been there for him.

Brow furrowing, Squall slowly placed the key onto the side table with far less resolve than he would have preferred. He wouldn't come back; the key would tell her as much. The last thing he wanted was to chase her from the home she had made for herself. Keeping that thought firm in his mind, he hoisted his bags onto his shoulders, picked up his two gunblade cases, and left for a second time that evening.

* * *

**[Calder Madar's Apartment, Vascaroon Building, Friday, 17th of October, 2:27 am]**

Torn from his sleep by the loud rapping on his front door, Calder eased himself out of bed. It wasn't hard to imagine who would be visiting at the late hour; he only knew one person capable of showing such disrespect for other people's sleeping habits. Wondering why Seifer would be at his door after the man had declined his earlier offer of spending the night together, he forced himself awake.

As the knocking resumed, he picked up his pace and opened the door. The artificial light of the hallway cast sharp shadows along the blond's face, Seifer's stark expression far removed from the smirks and grins Calder was used to.

Standing back, he waited for the blond to come inside. He couldn't remember the last time Seifer had dropped by unexpectedly for anything but a quick bout of sex. When Seifer didn't enter, the blond's expression void of any emotion, Calder couldn't help but feel concerned. He was almost startled when Seifer finally spoke.

"Can I crash here?" Seifer asked, his eyes traveling to meet Calder's.

"Sure." When Calder closed the door behind them, darkness filled the room. Watching as Seifer continued into the living room, neither of them said anything.

Shrugging off his jacket, Seifer wasn't sure how to approach the situation. He knew Calder was expecting him to say or do something, yet the man remained silent. Pushing away from where he'd stilled, he headed for the man's bedroom, wanting to avoid conversation for the time being.

He'd spent the better part of an hour just sitting in his pickup without any clear idea of what to do. He didn't want to return to his apartment to deal with Squall. Reliving memories of the war had drained him. Nothing good had come from it either; instead of making things better, he had upset Squall. He didn't want _anyone_ to pity him—hearing Squall apologize had been more than he could handle. He'd had to get the hell out of there after that.

Walking to the left side of the bed, he undid his boots and let his pants drop to the floor. He would go to bed and sleep; forget about everything else.

Calder watched the blond get ready for bed, uncertain whether he should say something to try and figure out the reason behind Seifer's behavior. When the blond got into bed without another word and turned his back to him, he had his answer.

His eyes traveled the body he knew so well. He'd missed Seifer. He always did when the blond left for his trips out of Esthar. He'd been eager for a night of fun with Seifer back in town and couldn't help but wonder what had gone wrong. Had something happened while Seifer's had been away? It seemed unlikely; Seifer had sounded fine when they'd talked on the phone. Maybe there'd been a problem at Arc's?

With a frown he got into bed as well. Returning to his earlier position, the comfortable warmth of the covers welcomed him, but more than anything he felt the dip in the mattress and the silent presence at the other side of his bed. He turned and regarded Seifer's back. He hadn't expected any surprises to surface after this long. Resisting the urge to move closer and steal some of Seifer's body heat, he turned back around and closed his eyes.

Once Calder's movement settled down at the other side of the bed, Seifer eased his grip on the duvet. On top of everything else, he didn't have the patience to deal with Calder. It was hard enough having to share a bed, but he knew he'd never have heard the end of it if he'd gone for the couch. At least this way Calder seemed to accept his behavior.

He tried to empty his mind. He wanted to sleep and not think; he'd already spent all day doing nothing but brooding and he _hated_ brooding, but image after image from his past kept surfacing in his mind. Memories from the war and the last twenty-four hours blended together. None of them lingered long enough for him to fully consider, just long enough to leave behind a bitter taste.

But then one image froze. A chill crawled up his spine as he stared straight into the eyes of his mistress. Her poisonous gaze wouldn't leave him alone. She was beckoning him... laughing as she seduced him, the mockery in her tone only thinly veiled. She made him feel like he owned the world, like he could control everyone.

The quiet creak of a door resounded in the darkness. A different darkness. Seifer no longer felt the mattress beneath him as he walked further into the house, following the sound. His gaze landed on small fingers curling around the edge of a wooden door. Frightened eyes peeked at him from behind it, immediately followed by the sound of light footsteps quickly padding away. With a soft press he pushed the door open fully. Warm rays of afternoon sunshine fell in through the cracks between the wooden planks that made up the walls, casting the room in a soft glow. A tiny girl stood in one of the corners of the room, her form trembling as her gaze darted to the weapon in his hand. At the sight of its sharpened edge, her eyes widened, and tears gathered in them.

Bringing his index finger to his lips, Seifer indicated for her to stay quiet and sent her a warm smile. Carefully, he placed his blade against one of the walls and watched as the girl stopped trembling. Not saying anything, he walked closer until he was just across from her, his smile never faltering. Easing down onto one knee, he reached out and tucked a stray brown lock behind one of her ears. Placing his finger against her lips briefly, he widened his smile.

"You're a good girl," he whispered, softly placing a hand against one of her arms. "Doing what your parents told you to: staying quiet."

"You need to keep that up."

After a brief moment of contemplation, she gave a small nod. He patted her arm gently.

"Come on, I'll get you out of here," he added and moved his hand to take hold of her smaller one, getting back onto his feet.

Slowly, they made their way to where Hyperion was resting against the wall. Grabbing hold of the blade, he looked at the girl and gave her hand a soft squeeze. A small smile appeared on her lips. Neither of them said anything as they walked out of the house.

Stepping onto the porch, he felt her small hand loosen up in his hold to break away; she'd spotted her parents. He tightened his grip.

Nothing but darkness greeted him after that.

* * *

**[Calder Madar's Apartment, Vascaroon Building, Friday, 17th of October, 6:15 am]**

Loud beeps broke the silence, forcing Seifer to open his eyes. Groaning at the sound pulling him from his dreamless sleep, he felt the warmth pressed close disappear. As he rolled onto his side, he caught a glimpse of Calder leaving the room for a morning shower. Kneading his forehead, the hour far too early for any semblance of coherent though, he sighed and turned to lie on his back once more.

When he tried to move again, his limbs felt too heavy and refused his commands. Unable to break through the debilitating lethargy, he grimaced and closed his eyes. This was why he avoided thinking back on the war.

The image of the curly-haired girl smiling at him caused the chasm within him to open wide. Thoughts of her would consume him if he lingered on them for too long. They had in the past. Sorting through other memories of the war instead, he didn't notice when Calder returned to the room.

At the sight that greeted him, Calder frowned. Usually Seifer was dead to the world at that hour of the morning, but instead, jade eyes were locked on the ceiling. Calder ran a hand through his hair. He'd never experienced Seifer brooding before. Somehow he knew forcing the issue would only get him on the blond's bad side though. Resigning himself to remain quiet, he got dressed instead.

"I'm off," he announced, waiting in place. Not even a twitch to Seifer's expression betrayed the blond had heard him. As he left, he stopped briefly in the doorway to glance over his shoulder. "We're still on for later, right?"

"Yeah," Seifer replied gruffly as he moved into a sitting position, his eyes traveling to the window.

With a brief nod, Calder left the room.

Watching the darkness outside, Seifer felt somewhat relieved that in spite of everything that had happened, nothing had really changed. He'd spar with Calder that evening, as was their habit whenever he wasn't out on one of his trips. Knowing the rest of his day would be entirely like usual helped put things into perspective. The comfort was short-lived though, as he wondered what Squall was up to, whether the brunet was still at his apartment.

Pushing out of bed, he walked over to one of the windows. Scanning the lights of the nearby buildings from the higher vantage of Calder's apartment, the image of Squall speeding along the streets of Esthar somewhere came to mind. As his chest constricted, he looked away again. He doubted Squall was still at his apartment, but if the man by some off-chance needed somewhere to stay, then he'd let him, as promised. He wouldn't return to find out.

He turned to look at the bedside clock. _6:43 am_. He hadn't gotten much sleep, yet he knew he wouldn't be able to dose off a second time. He'd also promised Arc he'd be in early to make up for the mess he'd made of things the day before. Heading for the shower, he banned all thoughts of Squall from his mind and focused on the day ahead of him.


	11. Thrown Back

**~ Chapter Eleven - Thrown Back ~**

* * *

**[Room 226, Skyway Inn, Chimera District, Friday, 17th of October, 4:12 pm]**

Squall had given up on falling asleep ages ago. He'd gotten only a few hours of sleep since Wednesday and the fatigue was starting to settle bone deep. He'd gone without rest for far longer periods under much more straining circumstances, yet he felt more tired than ever as he looked out of the window of his small hotel room.

He no longer knew how long he'd been leaning against the back of the tatty armchair, his gaze averted from the alarm clock. He had set it on the off chance that he would actually fall asleep at some point during the evening and be late for the appointment with Rinoa come morning. As he had pressed the buttons, a sudden thought had stilled his hands. He could simply not show up. For a brief moment he had considered the cowardly idea, before his fingers had started moving again, sealing his wake up call to a morning he wished didn't have to come.

He didn't know what to expect, how it would happen. Maybe he didn't even need to be there for Rinoa to break the bond and the request for his presence was some strange kind of courtesy. Most people seemed to value breaking things off face to face, but he found such a preference strange. When someone left, it hurt either way, but having to watch them walk away seemed unnecessarily painful.

He'd rather keep the memory of her smiling face untainted, her hazel eyes lighting up in wonder and gentle exploration as she had placed cool hands on either side of his head, the first touches of her mind so incredibly soft against his. Like ink dripping into water, her thoughts had gently curled and laughed and reveled, before smoothly sinking into him and infusing him with a pleasant presence. One moment he'd been alone in the world; the next her voice had wordlessly whispered to him from within, her lips curved into a smile as she had given him a promise of forever.

Would it feel like the reverse of that? A slow untangling of thoughts and soft whispers, a gentle pull away and then nothing? No forever after, no longer a knight. It would be strangely ironic, for it to be that simple. He knew better than to expect something more dramatic than that when the returning pattern of his life seemed to be that people walked out of it with astounding ease.

He wished he could be angry with her, but knew that would be unfair. She had tried harder than he ever had, had invested all of herself into making things work, while most of the time he hadn't even been able to _hug_ her without being halfhearted and uncomfortable. Even _he_ knew that was supposed to be elementary relationship basics.

Even though his memory was somewhat muddled and that early Thursday morning at Seifer's place only came back to him in fragments, he could still remember the moment of realization clearly. He didn't understand love. Rinoa loved him. He had thought he returned those feelings, but in the end it seemed he was only capable of some semblance of intimacy when drugged out of his mind. He was even more dysfunctional than he had originally thought and to refuse to let go of his bond with Rinoa would be beyond selfish. He had no right to tie her to someone like him.

He could no longer maintain that their failed relationship was unrelated to their bond as knight and sorceress, that those were two separate things and that the end of one didn't necessarily have to mean the end of the other. Prolonging their bond had hurt Rinoa. There was nothing platonic about it; it was invasive and personal and probably the closest he'd ever get to someone knowing about the skeletons he kept hidden in his closet, the kind of things he imagined only lovers knew.

As much as he hated the drug induced moment of insight where irrational and painful longing had made him reach for the bottle, he now at least had an inkling of why Rinoa couldn't stand to feel his mind and thoughts any longer. She must have realized a long time before he had that this kind of unbalanced relationship wouldn't last.

He would miss her. Maybe not for the right reasons and maybe not as much as he should, but enough to dread the next day. His life had had a certain sense of stability with Rinoa in it; he had never truly been alone. With her gone, he wondered how easily he would be able to settle back into the kind of life he had led before the war.

If he could at all.

Brow furrowing at the unwelcome thought, he told himself he hadn't become _that_ weak. It might take some getting used to, but he had done it before. He would manage again. That's what it always boiled down to in the end anyway: self-reliance. Never place any expectations or hope in anyone other than yourself. Silently, he swore that this would be the last time he'd have to learn that lesson. Whether the fault lay with others or more likely, himself, he was done with coming back for more.

With a sigh, he tore his gaze from the view he had stopped taking in a long time ago and rubbed his right temple where a dull headache was starting to build. He really needed some sleep, but his thoughts wouldn't give him any reprieve. Moving to sit in the armchair, he leaned back and tried to think about the practical side of things instead.

Arrangements would have to be made. First, there was the penthouse to think of. Whether Rinoa would like to keep it or move somewhere else, he would offer his support. It would give him peace of mind to know Rinoa wasn't wanting for anything. He wouldn't leave her without any other option than to return to her father in Deling City without a Gil to her name. General Caraway might never have approved of him much, but the man would never be able to accuse him of abandoning his daughter. His pride wouldn't allow it, nor his sense of responsibility. He'd always be there if she needed his help.

He also needed to inform Balamb Garden that he would be moving back, single quarters. The prospect of having to break the news to Quistis wasn't a pleasant one. The woman seemed to feel entitled to know about what was going on in his life and was far more stubborn about the matter than the rest of his friends. The moment she found out about any of this she'd have an apoplectic fit, one he didn't want to witness. He could only hope the others would take it in stride and refrain from prying. Loire would find out soon enough from Odine, since the doctor operated under strict observation of the president and always updated the meddling man on Rinoa's condition after her appointments.

Mood darkening at the thought of all the unwanted opinions and good advice he'd have to put up with, Squall decided that contacting Garden could wait. He didn't put it beyond his friends to rally together and come to Esthar for moral support, so he'd just tell them once he arrived back at Garden, not a moment earlier. For all they knew he was enjoying his leave and he preferred to keep it that way.

Letting his head drop backwards, his eyes trailing to the ceiling, he thought about moving back to Balamb. During his leaves, he would be able to resume his daily schedule of training. Zell could teach him hand-to-hand combat techniques on a more regular basis. His visits to the presidential palace would be reduced to a minimum. He'd live by the ocean again.

He tried to draw consolation from those thoughts, but knew that no matter where he lived, there would still be unpleasant reminders everywhere. He'd still have to return to Esthar for work, especially now that the talks concerning Esthar Garden had started, and every single time his thoughts would wander to the two people who would be so close by yet out of reach.

Garden was even more riddled with memories. There was the table in the cafeteria that had been his and Rinoa's spot, the bench at the main entrance where she always used to wait for him to come back from missions, all the little corners and hallways where she had stolen a quick kiss. There was the clearing in the training centre where he and Seifer used to spar, the tree at the quad that had several deep cuts carved into its bark by Hyperion, the slight dent where Seifer had slammed him into the metal door of one of Kadowaki's medicine cabinets.

All the traces Seifer had left behind, they had already been bothering him since the war, but until now his feelings had been mixed whenever his eyes fell on something familiar and a memory surfaced. He had quickly dismissed each one of them with an upset thought to the blond bastard who managed to mess with his head even when he wasn't around. He had been too angry and confused to admit to himself that he missed those times that would never come back.

After what had happened the past few days, that would be different. He knew the truth now, wasn't angry anymore, but it wouldn't stop the questions. Now more than ever he'd just be plagued by all the "what if's" instead: a worthless trade.

There were so many instances, so many junctures where he could have interfered, had he been more observant. He'd always known that Seifer hated any and all authority figures at Garden, bumping heads with them on a daily basis. He hadn't known, though, how out of place Seifer had felt at Garden, how the blond had planned to never come back the moment he had set out for Timber. Ultimecia had had nothing to do with that choice.

He wondered when such thoughts and plans had started to take root in the arrogant leader of the DC, who lived to perpetually annoy his instructors and strut the hallways of Garden like he owned them. When had Seifer given up on becoming a SeeD? Thinking back, he knew it had been naïve of him to think that the blond would simply try the SeeD exam a fourth time.

That time, just after the exam, he had simply stood by as Quistis and Xu had lashed out at Seifer and condemned the choices the blond had made as team captain. He hadn't spoken up in Seifer's defense, hadn't voiced his thoughts or admitted how it had seemed unfair that Seifer needed to take the blame for something he had been guilty of as well.

It hadn't been the blond's supposed authority over him, that had made him agree so easily to checking out the communication tower. He had simply been tired of remaining idle while battle was going on elsewhere and hadn't needed to think twice before following the blond. In retrospect, Seifer had made the right call; that order of retreat should never have come.

He could have appealed to Quistis; as smitten as she had been with him at the time, he could have convinced her to put in a good word for Seifer. He could have spoken up himself. Even if the ultimate choice hadn't been up to Cid, but more likely NORG's Garden Faculty, it still might have bought Seifer another chance; could have delayed the blond's plans to leave and make for Timber.

Timber, where everything had gone to hell. Any point after that would already have been too late; Ultimecia had already sunk her claws into her knight at that point. But even late rescue would have been better than none at all. So many times when he could have dragged Seifer away from the battle field, with force if necessary, back to Garden, but instead he had raised Lionheart.

For the first time he felt like he could understand what had driven Ellone to do something as irresponsible and reckless as sending them into memories of the past, without any regard to their lack of consent or whether it was safe. He understood, now that he had that same unbearable wish to do things over. Even if he could only change one thing, it would be enough; he would make sure Ultimecia would never take Seifer.

He tried to imagine it: a life where Seifer had never left Garden and had become a SeeD instead of a knight. The scenario had been so easy to envision once, when they hadn't known anything of war and spent their days trying to outdo one another. Getting missions and gaining rank would simply have been a new way of continuing their rivalry.

Stilling mid-thought as he realized the pointlessness of his thoughts, Squall wanted to snort at himself, but no sound came. He _knew_ there was no changing the past, yet he couldn't stop thinking about it, about that now lost future of rivalry, something that had seemed like an absolute certainty during his cadet years.

Nearly three years had passed since those days, his life far different from anything he had ever expected. He wondered what his seventeen-year-old self would have to say about his current predicament. He probably wouldn't be very impressed with his distress over a girl and even less so with him obsessing over _Seifer_.

Sighing, tired of the vicious circle his thoughts were trapped in, he pushed up from the armchair and glanced at the alarm clock. 4:48 pm. A little over sixteen hours left. With every hour that passed by, he felt his restlessness grow. This was one countdown he wasn't ready for, and he wished he could summon the indifference his younger self had warded off the world with—a shrug of the shoulders and a noncommittal "Whatever."

* * *

**[Darroze Building, Elvoret District, Friday, 17th of October, 4:48 pm]**

Squall's thoughts were restless, had been so ever since last night. Observing silently from a distance, just outside of his awareness, Rinoa didn't draw near. She didn't need to in order to feel him, which was all she wanted. Only a distant hum of his distraught state of mind filtered through; it hadn't stopped since yesterday, telling her he hadn't had any sleep since then either.

She ran her fingers through Angelo's fur, petting the dozing dog with slow strokes as they sat together on the fluffy carpet of the guest room her friend, Cecilia, was letting her use. Slumped against the foot end of the bed, head tilted back listlessly, she allowed herself these last few hours to drink in the presence of her unaware knight. She _needed_ it, even if it wasn't exactly the most healthy thing to do. Cecilia had tried to coax her out of the small room with bribes of treating her to her favorite restaurant or catching a movie, but nothing could have tempted her away from the last glimpses of Squall's mind.

Part of her wanted to feel his distress, wanted the reassurance that this was hurting him too, but she knew she was only fooling herself. It was probably not even her he was thinking about.

Another part of her wanted to rush to his side and say she hadn't meant any of it, that she wouldn't let him go. She knew he would forgive her if she did. He was too loyal for his own good.

Every hour that dragged on, every twitch of unrest that reached her through their bond made it increasingly difficult to remain idle. She hated this _waiting_. When Odine had told her he couldn't see them until Saturday, she hadn't protested, deep down hoping that Squall would try and change her mind before then, plead with her.

He hadn't.

He hadn't even answered her phone call that Thursday morning. She'd felt his mounting distress and had started to worry, in spite of everything he had put her through, everything he had forced her to feel. She had called out to him then, only to feel a jolt of panic as he recoiled from her. The outburst of uncontrolled emotion that had followed the voice mail she'd left him had nearly floored her as she slumped to her knees and sobbed uncontrollably with the weight of their combined distress.

His emotions had rolled through her with force, too many to be able to label them all, but she had understood the underlying current of it all. Shattering realization. She knew then that there was no turning back. There was no point in trying to save something, when neither of them believed in it anymore. She had mourned with him for their end, for what they couldn't ever have. And then there had been nothingness, a big void as if Squall's turmoil had suddenly been snuffed out. She had fallen asleep not much later, exhausted.

The next day, not too long after Seifer's phone call, there had been a short but potent bout of rage, stunning her from her own anger with the ex-knight. She could only really ascribe such blind fury to the blond's handiwork, the timing too conspicuous for it not to be related to the fact that Seifer had just phoned her. Another, obvious implication was that Squall had still been with Seifer at the time, that he had spent the night with the blond. To conclude that the choking hurt she had felt the night previous had also been because of Seifer wasn't that farfetched an assumption.

She had _almost_ reached out to Squall then, had almost called to ask what the bastard blond had done to him.

It was also then that she had realized something else, that Squall hadn't learned to block his emotions from their bond as skillfully as she had. Maybe he had only ever needed to shield minor thoughts or slight inner turmoil from her. Maybe it was only now that the wall he had carefully constructed around himself was starting to crumble, or maybe it was the Avalanche like Seifer had said. She couldn't tell for sure, but she knew cutting their bond was more necessary now than ever. She would go _mad_ if she had to go through another night like Wednesday. She wasn't sure she'd be able to keep from ripping the inhibitors from her wrists and retrieve _her_ knight a second time.

She didn't know what was more painful, the inescapable fact that Squall had slept with the ex-knight or the depth of the emotions Seifer invoked in him. To realize that his feelings for her paled in comparison, that they had never even been profound enough to cause more than a ripple in the surface of the bond they shared... She had always _known_ this but to have the harsh truth presented to her like _this_ was more than she could handle. It was cruel. His elation, his arousal, his unconditional trust, his absolute _surrender_. She had finally felt exactly what she had craved for so long, but none of it had been for her. She wondered what Seifer had done, what was so different about him for Squall to fall like that.

She didn't want to think back to her very first time, an experience shared with the blond boy, but she did. She found nothing there that shed any light on what had happened, any reason for Squall to prefer someone like Seifer over her, except perhaps the realization that Seifer wasn't straight, confirming her longstanding suspicions. Sex with Seifer had been awkward and the way he had stopped halfway through hurtful, the blond making some excuse neither of them had believed. At least Squall had responded to her touch, his body's reactions honest enough for her not to have been worried about his actual preferences.

But she hadn't been able to get Squall to _accept_ those touches, to accept such intimacy. Not like Seifer had. Apparently patience and love _didn't_ pay off in the end, but drugs and forcefulness did. Should she have been more demanding, less accommodating? She was afraid to find out what Squall really liked in bed, for him to have responded so strongly to Seifer, a man who had tortured him. If the blond hadn't lied over the phone, then _why_ had Squall taken Avalanche? In the ex-knight's presence?

She grit her teeth at the turn her thoughts had taken, at just how messed up everything had become. She was comparing them and was trying to figure out where she fit in it all, how she compared to them. There had to be some explanation, a reason why she had such unlucky and self-destructive taste in men, why it could never be _her_.

Jaws clenching as she tried not to cry _again_, she resisted the urge to blindly throw anything she could get her hands on out of frustration and vandalize the room that wasn't hers. Instead she took a deep, shuddering breath and pushed up from the floor. She needed some distraction after all.

"Come on, Angelo. Let's go for a walk."

Perking to attention at those words and the familiar dog leash that appeared from one of the drawers, Angelo enthusiastically shot up from her spot on the carpet and moved to wait by the door.

"You need some air too, huh?" she asked, smiling weakly as she fastened the leash to Angelo's collar. She hoped a walk in the city would at least keep her mind from wandering to her two exes together in bed. There was something strangely therapeutic about drifting through an uncaring crowd, one large avenue after the other, just one among the masses, just one of many problems. Nobody would turn in wonder at the sight of a silently crying girl and her dog. She needed that kind of numbness if she wanted to feel Squall without actually thinking about him. It had worked in the past, maybe it would now too.

* * *

**[Odine's Laboratory, Chimera District, Saturday, 18th of October, 8:47 am]**

As he pulled into the parking lot, Squall tensed in the driver's seat the moment he spotted Rinoa. Amidst the morning bustle of scientists and assistants arriving for work and moving from building to building, she was impossible to miss seated to the side of the entrance steps, her arms folded around her knees. Nobody seemed to notice her, huddling from the cold, but he couldn't tear his gaze away. The wind was wildly tossing her long raven hair, obscuring her expression from sight.

As he maneuvered his car into the nearest parking space, he tried to will himself to calm down. This close, she would be able to pick up on everything. If they were going to do this, he needed to keep strong. One moment of wavering, of weakness, and he would only make things harder on both of them. He knew her compassionate nature would cause her to hesitate the moment she noticed anything less than resigned determination in him, just as he would hesitate the moment she expressed any form of doubt. He couldn't allow that. It was this weakness that had kept them tied together this long.

Killing the engine of his car, he took a moment to relax his expression and posture before getting out. He felt like running, every fiber of his being opposed to what he was about to do, but he simply closed the door and crossed the parking lot. Rinoa had already spotted him and rose to her feet, otherwise motionless. Looking into solemn hazel eyes, he felt like he was walking towards the edge of a cliff, the inevitable fall one of his own making.

Rinoa seemed so fragile in that moment, her eyes glistening and blinking against what were maybe tears or maybe just the sharp wind. The slight redness to her cheeks and the way her coat and scarf were pulled up high around her neck told him she had been waiting outside for a while.

"You should have waited inside," he said as he arrived at the steps.

Meeting Squall's gaze, Rinoa would have smiled at those words if it weren't for the circumstances that had brought them there in the first place. He was the picture of composure, his voice even and noncommittal, but she could feel the stir of restlessness underneath it all. For him to tightly keep his guard even then was both typical and infinitely sad.

"And risk you heading into Odine's office, before we have a chance to talk?" she said softly, only managing the slight teasing tone to her voice out of habit. She had immediately noticed the dark smudges under gray-blue eyes, confirming her suspicion that he had hardly had any sleep, but she refrained from comment.

"Come on," she said, taking him by the arm and ignoring the slight frown that appeared on Squall's face. "There won't be any people in the garden right now."

"Odine will—"

"Odine will be busy setting up his gear and machines. He won't mind us coming in a little late." She knew Squall didn't ever appreciate being whisked off to a secluded place for private conversation, but some things were more important than him feeling uncomfortable.

Met only with determination in Rinoa's eyes, Squall yielded. He had known a talk would be unavoidable the moment he had spotted her waiting on those steps. He was fairly sure he wouldn't want to talk about anything she had to say, didn't see the point of these face to face conventions where people bared their hearts to each other one last time.

He let himself be led down the little path all the same, the arm hooked around his and the close press of Rinoa's body strangely comforting in that it let him know she at least didn't hate him for what had happened. And though he dreaded the conversation to come, he welcomed the resulting delay.

Glancing sideways, Rinoa briefly met Squall's even gaze before quickly looking away again. She could feel his apprehension more clearly now, the unusual sensation chiseling away at her own courage and her resolve to get answers out of him. She wasn't sure if she even wanted to know.

Spotting a bench to the side of the garden, she softly tugged his arm. "Let's sit down over there." Maybe the words she wanted to say would come more easily if they didn't have to look each other in the eye; some much needed distance as they sat side by side and tried to voice things that left them too exposed.

A small nod was all she received in reply. When they reached the bench, she untangled their arms and sat down, waiting as Squall reluctantly followed suit. Silence stretched between them, and she knew Squall wouldn't be the one to break it. She tried to arrange her thoughts, organize the questions that weighed heavily on her mind. If this was to go right, she would need to keep accusation and hurt from bleeding into her voice.

Had she been braver, she would have lifted the shield she had placed in between their consciousnesses, allowing them to convey in thought what they couldn't put into words. But that would mean setting herself up for more heartache than she could stand, so she resigned herself to stunted replies and awkward misunderstandings.

"I'm ashamed of how I behaved at the club," she started, deciding that was as good a topic to begin with as any. Squall needed to know this wasn't going to be about her blaming him. "I was drunk and upset. I didn't mean to tell you like that."

Hearing the unexpected apology, Squall didn't immediately reply. He didn't care anymore _how_ he had been told he was no longer needed. There was no _good_ way to break news like that, and the outcome would have been the same in the end. Besides, he was guilty of much more shameful behavior than her.

"It doesn't matter," he said evenly, dismissing the unnecessary apology.

"It does to me," came the quiet reply. When only silence followed those words, Squall glanced sideways. Rinoa's fingers were fidgeting nervously before she pinned her hands between her knees, a thoughtful look to her eyes. He braced himself for what she was about to say.

"Seifer said he was there, at the club," Rinoa started hesitantly, an instant surge of unguarded emotion reaching her through the bond, before Squall promptly quelled it. She could practically _feel_ how all the blood had dropped from his face, but no response came.

"...He said he was your friend, but he probably just didn't want to tell me—" _he was seeing you._ "...his name."

Comfort zone instantly breached at the mention of Seifer, Squall struggled to remain in place when he wanted nothing more than to walk away from the turn the conversation was taking. He knew that to some extent Rinoa deserved answers, but Seifer had already run his mouth to her, and he was afraid to ask just what she had been able to discern from the bond. He didn't know what was left to say, why she had to bring it up.

Seeing and feeling Squall's inner turmoil, his features darkening as he kept silent, Rinoa was at a loss as to how to proceed. She _needed_ to understand what was going on between him and Seifer.

Seifer had said it was just the one time, but the blond could easily have lied. She didn't know what to believe when she couldn't even figure out why Seifer had called her in the first place. His explanation had made no sense; a torturer didn't _care_ about his victim, didn't _plead_ with such sense of urgency. It had been strange and unlike anything she had come to expect of the blond, yet she had trouble interpreting it as him trying to rub salt in her wounds.

When it became obvious Squall wasn't going to say anything anytime soon, Rinoa decided to forego subtlety. "Did Seifer tell me the truth?"

Squall's frown grew at the blunt question. He didn't want to think about Seifer at all. It was irrelevant to the matter at hand, had nothing to do with their bond, yet Rinoa wouldn't let the issue _go_.

"He had no reason to lie," he answered truthfully, hoping that confirming what Seifer had told her would be the end of it.

Rinoa needed a moment to process the curt statement and its underlying implications. It meant Squall trusted Seifer to have told her the truth. Though, recalling the very hard to ignore flare of anger she had felt through the bond right after the blond's call, she guessed it was probably something more along the lines of Squall not _appreciating_ Seifer telling her the truth.

Or maybe Squall simply didn't have a clue about the absurd things Seifer had said. She had a hard time imagining any scenario where Squall would willingly do... what Seifer had claimed. "So..." she ventured, her voice reined in carefully not to betray how the words hurt her, "you accepted Avalanche from him." If she got even the slightest inkling that the drugs had been forced on him, then Seifer would be in for a world of pain.

"Was that a statement, or a question?" Squall asked coldly.

Rinoa knew those words hadn't been meant as an invitation for her to clarify herself. If it wasn't for the mounting distress she could feel brewing beneath each tersely spoken syllable, the sharp rebuttal would have rendered her speechless. Already she had managed to put him on the defensive.

"This is _Seifer_ we are talking about," she said, struggling to keep her voice even and the disbelief from her face. "Last thing _I_ remember, the two of you were trying to kill each other. This is not norm—" The mix of anger and _sorrow_ that struck her from Squall's side of the bond caused her to freeze in astonishment, the words dying on her lips mid-sentence at the realization that his anger was directed at _her_.

The sharp gasp of surprise cutting short what Rinoa had been about to say, followed by the release of a deep trembling breath, told Squall he needed to get a grip, fast. Unclenching his fingers and forcibly relaxing the rigid set to his shoulders, he repeated to himself that she didn't know what she was talking about, that none of this was her fault. Opening his eyes as he took a calming breath, he turned to look next to him, instantly regretful at the sight of Rinoa's shocked expression, her eyes moist with unshed tears.

"...Rinoa."

As the wave of emotions receded, Rinoa tried to process what had just happened. "I-I don't understand," she finally said weakly, meeting Squall's gaze. "...I don't understand any of it."

Why was he always so weak to her distress? Watching Rinoa's pleading eyes, the confusion clear on her face, Squall averted his gaze with a deepening frown. What Seifer had told him had been told in confidence, he knew that, but right now Rinoa still believed Seifer was a war criminal and had most likely come to the conclusion that her knight was fucked up enough to sleep with one.

"Ultimecia used him," he finally said quietly, hoping Seifer wouldn't fault him for telling Rinoa. "He didn't want to be her knight anymore than you wanted to free Adel." She didn't need to know, however, that he had only learned this _after_ the Avalanche and the sex.

"...How can you be sure?" came the uncertain reply, Rinoa's doubt clear in her voice.

"It doesn't matter how I know," he said firmly, dissuading any further questions. "I'm done talking about this."

Swallowing any further words, Rinoa fell silent. It wasn't exactly easy reconciling Squall's stunted explanation, if it could even be considered that, with her own experiences of the war. Watching Seifer turn against them, against _her_, had been awful. The blond boy she had had a hopelessly naive crush on that one summer, had stood before her a knight, demented and unfeeling as he had thrown her to Adel's feet.

He had hurt Squall even worse than he had her, yet here Squall was, saying with such profound belief that it hadn't been Seifer's fault. She knew Squall wasn't the type to easily be lured into believing lies like that; if anything, the war and his time as commander had made him into an excellent judge of character.

He _believed_ this, and more importantly, it mattered to him a great deal. She knew for certain now that the turmoil she had felt from him the past few days had indeed been because of Seifer.

She didn't know what to make of it. Even if it was true, could she ever be magnanimous enough to set aside the memory of days of torture? What kind of switch had Squall flipped in his head so that sleeping with Seifer became acceptable? She had seen some of his nightmares, had seen what Seifer had done to him. Either he had a ridiculous capacity for forgiveness or he cared more for Seifer than he had ever let on.

As far as she knew, all they had been before the war were sparring partners, rivals with a sense of mutual understanding at best. She had _seen_ this grow into mutual resentment and even loathing during the war. None of it made sense.

When Rinoa didn't say anything for long moments, Squall allowed himself to relax a little. Hopefully his firm dissuasion had steered things back on track, whatever that was, and _away_ from the unpleasant topic that was Seifer. He needed his composure more than anything; the only thing he was willing to discuss was _their_ relationship, their bond.

"Are you two—"

"No," he interrupted the sudden question, nipping it in the bud. Looking sideways at Rinoa's frowning face, he could see the word "but" form on her lips and he immediately reiterated. "_No_. Either you find something else to talk about or we go inside."

Stiffening at his own words, he fixed his gaze in front of him. He hadn't meant to speak so callously, didn't have any desire to go inside at all, but his patience was starting to run thin, making him more harsh with Rinoa than he wanted to be.

As Rinoa looked at Squall's solemn expression, the toll the conversation was taking on him bled into her and wore her down just as much as it did him. The taut thrum of off-key emotions and bitter thoughts ran wildly just beyond her side of the bond; somehow she knew she would only have to extend her finger and dip it through that deceivingly calm surface to make him _snap_, to invite all of that hurt onto herself.

Her expression softened, her heart tight in her chest as she let go of the question she had wanted to ask. Squall probably wouldn't even be able to explain it, confused as he seemed. Maybe he and Seifer were involved now; most likely they weren't. Maybe their brief encounter had been enough to discover entire new ways of hurting each other, and that was all it would ever be. Maybe Squall would be able to tell her about these things some day.

She didn't want to go inside yet as Squall had suggested, so she sidled a bit closer to him instead and lowered her head onto his shoulder, uncaring of what he'd think of the gesture. They'd have their whole lives to be apart, so for just a little while longer she would be selfish.

As Rinoa settled against him, her head resting against the crook of his neck, Squall briefly closed his eyes at the unexpected gesture. In that moment their impending separation felt more real and a much heavier burden than ever, and he could only hope that when everything was said and done they would still be able to sit with each other like this. Neither of them said a word as he placed an arm around her trembling shoulders.

They sat there for a while, neither of them willing to end their silent goodbye. It was easier to be more honest with his feelings when sharing them in silence, when he wasn't being pressed for answers or provoked into speaking. Telling her he'd miss her would seem hollow somehow, a waste of pointless words. This moment of drinking in each other's presence one last time felt infinitely more meaningful.

He didn't move away his arm when she finally started to calm down, the quiet sobs and soft tremble of her smaller frame coming to a still. A last deep inhale of breath tickled his neck before she slipped out of his hold, his arm falling idle to his side as she wiped at his neckline with her sleeve, mumbling a soft "sorry" for the wet mess of tears she'd left there.

As he watched her try and collect herself, her hands moving to wipe at wet cheeks, he felt his protective urges stirring and remembered the decision he had made the day before. He knew it wouldn't go far as to make her feel better, but at least she'd know she wouldn't have to worry about things like rent. "The apartment is yours if you still want it," he said, meeting her gaze. "If not, I'll pay for a new place."

Rinoa blinked in surprise, distracted from the many thoughts running through her mind. Hyne, he was _serious_. Taking in the earnest look to gray-blue eyes, she wondered if she should have seen this coming. It wasn't exactly something she had expected or would ever have asked for.

"There's no need for you to do this," she said, shaking her head softly in disbelief, unable to help the slight upward tug to her lips. Only Squall would be so stubbornly dependable_. _"I don't plan on being a burden to you."

"You're not a burden," came his instant reply, said with a frown and such _gravity_ that Rinoa's lips curved upwards a little more.

"And you're too loyal for your own good," she replied wistfully, knowing his offer was inspired by genuine concern, not pity or guilt.

She looked around her then, world and time falling back into place around them. She didn't know how long they'd been sitting there, but Odine had probably already finished his preparations. Her heart sank, but she knew she couldn't delay any further. She had asked all she dared; had committed his scent, warmth, and feel to memory. She was as ready as she'd ever be.

Seeing Rinoa's expression take on an edge of determination, Squall resigned himself to what would come next. She stood up and wordlessly waited for him to follow. The moment he did, her gaze moved away from him and settled on the path in front of her. They walked back to the entrance without meeting each other's gaze in silent agreement that they would need the detachment from then on.

After the morning rush of staff members arriving for work, the parking lot and entrance were quiet when they returned. Inside, the hallways were empty apart from the occasional assistant running an errand, the only sound the distant hum of machines behind closed doors.

As they entered the lift that would bring them to Odine's private lab, Squall started to feel the same discomfort he always did when visiting the "Laboratory." If not for Rinoa, he would avoid coming here like the plague.

The lift whizzed by different floors, the enclosing field of energy allowing brief glimpses into long, brightly illuminated hallways and the odd engineering level, dark and filled with machinery. Usually, Rinoa would already have snuck a hand around his. He'd always figured it had been an unconscious gesture on her part caused by unease. A sorceress and a SeeD Commander didn't have anything to fear from the likes of Odine, but that didn't make a routine check up with the man _pleasant_. So for the duration of every one of those lift rides, he had held her hand.

But her hand never came. She stood at an appropriate distance, her arms held idly by her side as she kept her eyes on the floors flashing by.

The lift slowly came to a halt at their destination, and as Rinoa walked out in front of him, Squall wondered just how many of those little, stolen touches she had managed to desensitize him to over the years. How many of those brief moments would he only notice once they were gone?

Walking into the large room that made up the main part of Odine's personal lab, Rinoa could hear the man rummaging around somewhere in the back, beyond another set of doors. "He's in the back," she said, turning around to find Squall watching her distantly. As their gazes met, he seemed to start from his position just outside the lift. A small frown immediately found its way onto his brow, as he walked past her and made for the doors in the back.

She curbed the urge to ask if he was alright, the question pointless when he hadn't ever answered it truthfully in the past. And she'd really rather not have to hear him say he was "fine" just then.

Following after him, they walked into the back room, where Odine had apparently been setting up twice the amount of monitors and machinery she was used to. Even with her bangles on she could feel a strange pressure shrouding her, like static messing with her magic. If she took them off, she was certain she'd be able to see the magic seals Odine had set up across the room; maybe even disable them.

Looking at Squall, the strangely inward look to his eyes told her he had noticed as well and was mentally checking the limits of the magical restriction. Reminded of how he hated not being in control, she hoped he was prepared for the inevitable lack of control in what they were about to do.

"Why the anti-magic field?" Squall asked evenly, directing his question to a large piece of machinery in the far corner of the room. He watched as Odine's head popped up from behind it, before the scientist stood up completely, a far too eager expression appearing on the man's face.

"Ah, zere you are!" Odine exclaimed, rounding the machine he'd been working on. "Perfect. Vonderful! I hav almost finished adjusting ze equipment." With those words, he picked up a strange device and hurried over to a small monitor, immediately fiddling with buttons and settings. Squall had a suspicion the man's tendency to never answer his questions right away was a deliberate one. It grated on his nerves.

"_Why_ the anti-magic field?" he repeated, his voice slightly less even. "Is it necessary?" It wasn't a very potent interference, not nearly as unyielding as some of the ones he'd experienced during his missions. Shiva would be able to push through it with some effort.

"Ah yes, ze zeals," Odine said with a slight nod. Keeping his eyes on the monitor as he tampered with it, his hand waved briefly to the room around him. "Zis room will have to do. I did not have enough time to zeal a space as large as ze examination room."

Finishing the monitor's adjustments and moving on to another, he continued his explanation. "Ze zeals are a precaution; as strong as I could make zem wizout hindering ze bond and Miss Heartilly's ability to lift it." Turning around after calibrating another set of machines, he met Squall's gaze unfazed, his voice conveying he hadn't missed the tone to Squall's repeated question.

"Zey are _necessary_ as ve do not know how Miss Heartilly vill be affected by zis." Odine's expression didn't hide his excitement as he added in afterthought, "...nor how it vill affect you, Commander."

Starting into action again at his own words, he began double-checking the adjustments he'd just made. "To collect data on such a rare phenomenon iz unprecedented! It iz a vonderful opportunity to learn more about ze nature of ze bond."

Walking past them, out of the door, his enthusiastic prattling grew faint as he started to rummage through papers in the other room. "...It iz a peculiar thing, zis bond. Not unlike a junction, but not quite ze same—"

Mood turning darker with every word that left Odine's mouth, Squall started to tune him out. He was only one breath away from walking out of the laboratory, his jaws clenched in frustration.

"We need him, Squall." Rinoa's voice pulled him out of his irritation, his gaze drawn to her resigned expression. "It's the only safe way to do this."

"I know," he agreed grudgingly. They couldn't risk a lapse in Rinoa's condition, and Odine was the only one with the means to intervene if anything went wrong.

Following Rinoa's gaze around the room, studying the machines lined up along the walls and the two chairs placed opposite each other in the middle, he couldn't help but note the vastly different setting from when they had bonded. It had been just the two of them, outside on a windy day and without machines or doctors breathing down their necks. It had happened without premeditation, had grown between them almost organically, but would die in this gray lab room. It set his hairs on end.

When their gazes met, Rinoa knew they were thinking the same thing. To have things end like this was the last thing either of them would ever have expected. She could feel Squall's growing agitation, his discomfort with the laboratory and Odine worse than she had anticipated. With a soft sigh she moved to one of the chairs to sit down.

For her, doing it in this location was necessary, precautions aside. To have a third party nearby would force her to keep strong and keep on track, the unwelcoming atmosphere of the lab carrying the feel of finality she needed not to waver. Like rain accompanying a funeral, it suited the gravity of what needed to be done.

One arm cradling folders and documents, Odine walked back into the room and spotted Rinoa already in place. Casting a pointed look at Squall, he wordlessly urged the commander to sit down as well. "Ve shall soon commence ze zeparation."

At the unspoken order, Squall narrowed his eyes, but when Rinoa's pleading gaze met his, her head shaking slightly to deter him from what he was thinking of, he suppressed his urge to provide the doctor with his blunt opinion. Sitting down on the metal chair across form her, his unease grew tenfold as Odine rolled two identical machines into the room and placed one by each of their sides. Another larger machine was maneuvered into place by Rinoa's side, one she was clearly used to, as she strapped her hand into it herself with practiced ease.

It pained him to see Rinoa like that, reduced to nothing but a science experiment. It reminded him of how she'd been locked up amidst machinery, her body lifeless in the cryostasis chamber at the Sorceress' Memorial. Seeing how used to this kind of procedure she was, he wished he could take her away from it all, just like he had back then. To think most of the equipment was probably for Odine's sake, not hers, only fueled his frustration.

After one last, pleased look at his equipment, Odine took post next to the largest monitor. "Zat concludes all of ze preparations," he said, before eyeing them eagerly.

"Everything iz set up. Additional zealing and emergency procedures are on stand-by." Directing his words to Rinoa next, he continued in a deceivingly courteous tone of voice, "You may begin, Miss Heartilly."

Nodding almost indiscernibly, Rinoa took a moment to collect her courage, unable to suppress a sliver of panic as the point of no return presented itself. There was no manual for what she was about to do, no documents or accounts from history on how to break a sorceress' bond. She would have to do it on instinct, just like when she had bonded them. The fact that Squall wasn't the least bit calm wasn't helping matters.

Swallowing thickly, she brushed softly against his mind, careful not to intrude. "You're too worked up," she said, her voice coming out thinly as her usual tact with words failed her. It was impossible to tiptoe around their feelings and keep focused on the task at hand at the same time. "Try and empty your mind."

When dark eyebrows furrowed in response, Squall obviously trying to do what she had asked, she could feel his thoughts go strangely rigid, as if forced into restraints. It wasn't exactly what she'd call emptying one's mind, but she'd have to make do.

"I-I'll try and do it quickly," she reassured, hoping she would be able to follow up on her promise.

No answer came, not even a nod. Squall just kept in place, his entire posture tense and his face expressionless apart from a slight frown. She _knew_ he was focusing on what she had asked of him, yet she wished he wouldn't listen so easily, that he would somehow slip and inadvertently show how much this was killing him.

Shaking the bitter thought, she slowly started to weaken her mental shields in some places and strengthen them in others. It would be easier if they didn't have to feel each other's pain on top of their own, despite her irrational thoughts only seconds earlier.

Squall sucked in a slow, deep breath as he felt Rinoa begin to stir just outside his reach. He couldn't tear his gaze away from her expression of painful concentration, her eyes closing as she moved her mind against his. It felt surreal that they were really doing this. He was unable to do anything but watch as she started to gently _push_ and test his barriers, her lashes trembling against her cheeks and a small crease appearing between her eyebrows.

"Ready?" came her breathless whisper.

Incapable of voicing his consent without the words sounding weak, he tried to open his mind further instead, immediately feeling exposed because of it. Rinoa understood, though, and slowly slipped shallow tendrils of her mind into his. He wished he didn't have to notice the purposeful, methodical way her touch moved through him, so different from the comforting caresses and soft inquiries he was used to. He couldn't sense her emotions and knew it was because she wouldn't let him.

She dove deeper then and swarmed out within the shell of his being, careful to shield herself from him as she gently recoiled from the accidental touches his mind reached out with. He couldn't control any of it. His hands clenched around the armrests of his chair at the strange sensation of having an _absence_ of Rinoa moving around within his head. This wasn't how it had been before.

This was _wrong_.

Suddenly, the _absence_ tugged sharply at something rooted deep within, causing him to grit his teeth. Given no time to process what had just happened, his eyes snapped shut and his breath froze as another tug came, harsher this time. The last coherent thought forming in his mind was the realization that _this was it_, before blinding white pain shot through him and crippled his mind.

Careful, as gently as she could, Rinoa pulled a fourth time at the knot that lay at the base of their bond, the core root where she had first settled into Squall's mind. Finally, it loosened and a void blossomed within her, painless but gaping _wide_. The distant echoes of brief shock were the last thing she could feel from her knight, before those disappeared as well. They sank away into the void, as if swallowed up by deep murky waters.

Opening her eyes, desperately needing to see he was still _there_ before continuing, she had to blink to clear her vision. She couldn't tell when she had started to cry.

A lump grew in her throat as she watched those stark, pale features, crinkled into a faint grimace. It was the only outward sign that he was even feeling anything, his reactions disappointingly subdued when she couldn't stop from trembling herself, the void within her tearing wider and wider.

"Ze process isn't complete yet, miss Hear—"

Snapping her head to the side, narrowing her eyes, she wordlessly conveyed her need for the doctor to _shut up_. Just in time she pulled back her magic from flowing out to Odine, the sudden beeping from one of the machines and the painful grate of the seals against her mind stunning her out of her urge to lash out.

Reeling herself in, she took a deep breath and refocused her attention on Squall. Exhaling slowly, she closed her eyes once more and resumed the gentle pull at the complicated weave of their bond.

_Just a little bit more,_ she whispered into Squall's mind, apologetically, even though she knew he couldn't hear her anymore.

At the returned tugging, moving faster and faster, Squall's mind was turned into an open, raw wound. Every nerve in his brain, every thread linking him to Rinoa was _snapped_ loose, too sudden for each new loss to register with him separately. What once had been a taut connection, strongly tying them together, was now an untethered rope, whipping mercilessly in the wind. Increasingly disoriented, he could only watch as the cut link frayed into a thousand different strands, each one lacerating more deeply than the last.

A jolt of worry ran through him then; not his own and not coming from the absence moving within him either. Cold and soothing, it helplessly drifted through his mind, distraught as it followed the trail of damage.

_Shiva_.

Upon his recognition, she surged towards him, so worried, so concerned. He couldn't tell what was happening anymore, couldn't collect his thoughts when next thing he knew he was drowning, a hook digging deeply into his flesh but the line cut. Thrown back into the water, thrown away and _drowning_.

He fled into Shiva's arms, her ice wrapping around him tightly and securely. Yes, they would escape together. _Please_.

Upon junctioning the whipping instantly stopped, every raw and loose end forcibly frozen into place. Slowly remembering who he was and who the absence had been, he uncurled the painful white-knuckled grip he had on metal armrests. Taking a few seconds to assess that he was still sitting upright, in his chair, breathing, he realized that Rinoa was gone.

_Gone_.

Trying to snap him from his shock, Shiva was urging him to move, to flee to a safe place where she would fix him. He wanted to tell her that he wasn't broken, but pain throbbed unrelentingly against the inside of his skull, a cold sweat breaking out on his skin.

"Squall?" Rinoa's voice; soft, shaky. He realized his eyes were still closed. The understanding that he couldn't let Odine and Rinoa see he had junctioned followed soon after. He needed to leave.

"I'm fine," he managed, surprising himself as he managed to push up from the chair. He opened his eyes to a wall full of machines. Somewhere to his right, Odine was hurrying from one piece of equipment to the next, all the while giving a running commentary. "Vonderful! If I am right in interpreting ze readings, my zesis iz correct. A bond iz indeed a form of junctioning! Ah, ze implications! Zis opens up entirely new avenues for my research!"

If it hadn't been for the pain pounding away at the back of his eyes, he would've snapped at the doctor. Moving slowly, he hoped to disguise how the room seemed to be swaying and messed with his sense of balance, how the floor suddenly pulled away an inch beneath each of his footsteps.

"—uall..." The hum of machines grew louder and more aggravating with each passing second, almost drowning out Rinoa's words. "_Squall_."

Stopping in his tracks toward the door, he let his eyes travel along the floor, to where Rinoa was still sitting on one of the chairs. Remembering to hide the silver glow to his eyes that would betray his junction with Shiva, he kept his eyes lowered, his gaze stopping its ascent and lingering where Rinoa's quivering hands were resting on her knees.

"...You're leaving already?" Her voice sounded thick with the effort of fighting back tears; almost too faint against the backdrop of heartless machinery and the fanatical doctor's monologue. Her trembling hands started to move from their perch, as if they were going to reach out to him. Quickly, he reaffixed his gaze on the exit, needing to escape.

"At least let Odine check if you're—"

"He has all the readings he needs," Squall immediately replied, his words reverberating unpleasantly inside his head. Everything sounded like an echo, distant yet sharp at the same time, making it near impossible for him to think straight.

"Zere are plenty of tests zat could add to our understanding of zis phenomenon, Commander," Odine immediately cut in, before reeling in the eagerness to his voice somewhat. "...to better determine treatment, should ze necessity occur."

"_No_," Squall bit out, immediately regretting the volume of his voice and the accompanying shake of his head. As the ice in his mind shifted slightly, its grasp on the pieces of the broken bond slipping for a fraction of a second, bile rose at the back of his throat. He could sense Shiva's panic. He needed to get out of there. If he stayed much longer, they would notice.

"I'm going."

Willing his legs to cooperate, he walked to the door, ignoring how shards of the bond were pressing into his mind and cutting his ice goddess. They could handle pain. He knew how to force himself into motion, into battle, even when his body had already been pushed beyond its limits several injuries earlier; he'd learned that a lifetime ago.

"Would you _wait_, please?" A hint of anger filled Rinoa's weak voice.

"A follow up of your condition iz highly recommended," Odine immediately added, walking up behind him. A paper bag was pressed into his hands. "Zese pills vork to help combat ze symptoms of abrupt unjunctioning of an unfit host viz a GF. I prescribed zem years ago, ven I vas vorking viz para-magic research."

"Symptoms? What symptoms?" he heard Rinoa ask in worry. As her raised voice slit through his skull, he clenched his hand around paper bag, crumpling it in his grip. Every second of delay was one too many.

Odine continued his explanation, ignoring Rinoa's questions. "Considering ze nature of ze sorceress bond I hav just uncovered, zese symptoms may arise. Zey also may not." The doctor's white lab coat moved out of Squall's peripheral vision, the man's footsteps leading back to a few machines by the far wall. "I advise you keep ze pills viz you and zat you contact ze laboratory every twenty four hours."

Squall couldn't care less about Odine's _concern_, but the non-committal "whatever" he was about to speak died on his lips as Shiva started to flicker within him, everything in his mind starting to dislogde into a crippling cycle of lashing and freezing.

"Squall, promise me you'll do this," Rinoa said softly, pressing him. "...and call me too, once a day."

Managing a nod, following it with a clipped "fine," he walked out of the room and into the elevator. He could hear Rinoa call out to him, but her words didn't register anymore. All he heard was the rush of his pulse in his ears, fast and erratic. The distance he crossed, the slight raise of a trembling arm to push the call button, the few steps that moved him into the elevator; each and every motion was steered by Shiva's urgency, her ice sliding through his veins and muscles, willing him to move and _flee_.

As floors whizzed by, his eyes could no longer follow such fast movement, the blaring overhead light of the lift burning into his retinas. His thoughts disintegrated, his entire world shrinking and sharpening into the sole sensory input of _pain_. He was still walking, cold wind now moving abrasively against his clammy skin. Shiva seemed to be falling away, her concern growing dim and distant, or maybe it was himself that was being pulled under? Darkness enveloped him as a door slammed closed, his body obeying someone else's orders. The last things he felt before conscious thought eluded him altogether was the rumble of a car engine and the aching realization that he had lost something for ever.

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**A/N:** Thanks to the lovely Aera for all her amazing edits and for coming up with a great title for the chapter! Also thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter - much appreciated :)


	12. Facing Reality

**~ Chapter Twelve - Facing Reality ~**

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**[Calder Madar's Apartment, Vascaroon Building, Sunday, 19th of October, 7:13 pm]**

"Cut the onions already," Seifer said, noticing the chopping board he'd gotten out for Nolan earlier remained untouched. Grumbling under his breath, he sent the boy a firm look.

From atop the kitchen counter, Nolan returned the blond's gaze, his legs swinging back and forth idly. "No way, you're the freeloader. You do it."

Seifer raised an eyebrow. "And you're not?"

"No, I'm Family. It's different," Nolan shrugged halfheartedly.

Repressing a snort, Seifer placed a dirty knife in the sink, adding it to the steadily increasing pile of cooking utensils he'd already abandoned. "So all those times you happened to pop by at Arc's or my place around dinnertime?"

"I was bored." Nolan's eyes fell to where Seifer was chopping mushrooms.

"But you weren't freeloading?" Seifer quirked his eyebrow farther.

A smirk appeared on Nolan's lips. "Definitely not."

Huffing, Seifer shook his head slightly. "And the materials that keep disappearing—I guess that's because you've been bored as well?" It hadn't taken long for him to make the connection between his disappearing materials and the longfingered brat.

"You said I could have them," Nolan supplied, referring to the first time he'd gotten his hands on some materials Seifer had brought back. The idea of making little trinkets—weapon accessories—had fascinated him, and when the opportunity presented itself he'd been unable to pass up. Seifer had relented in no time. "You would have given them to me anyway."

Seifer knew Nolan was right; that's why he hadn't said anything in the first place. It didn't mean Nolan got out of chopping onions though. Placing some onions on the chopping board, he pushed it closer to the boy.

"Get to work," he ordered, watching Nolan closely.

Rolling his eyes, Nolan jumped off the counter and began slicing the onions.

"What're you two talking about?" Calder asked as he entered the kitchen, looking from Nolan to Seifer.

"_Pumpkin_ here tried to get out of onion duty," Seifer said, emphasizing "pumpkin" with faux affection. He smirked broadly when the boy's jaws clenched.

"You're a dick, you know that?" Nolan said, his fingers tightening their hold on the chopping knife in his hand.

Calder sent Nolan a pointed look. "Language," he warned. The way his brother spoke when he wasn't around Seifer was bad enough, but when the two of them were together any sophistication to Nolan's language went straight out the window.

"And you're a straight up Prince Charming, right?" Seifer retorted, holding Nolan's gaze, smirking openly.

Catching on to Seifer's intent, Nolan rolled his eyes and turned around to focus on his task instead.

"I see you guys missed each other," Calder commented from the sidelines, walking over to the sink.

"Like I'd miss this prick," Nolan muttered under his breath.

About to retort that Nolan had been quick to drop by his place after his return to Esthar, Seifer instead grabbed some more mushrooms and placed them on the chopping board in front of him. Mentioning Nolan's visit could easily lead to Nolan bringing up Squall—something he could do without.

"So, when's Trevor's brother doing the tryouts for Garden?" Calder asked as he started to clean the dirty pile of kitchen utensils that had amassed in the sink.

"Sometime next month," Nolan answered, not looking up from the chopping board.

"Did they tell him what kind of tests he had to do?" Calder asked. No one really knew much about the mercenary training schools. Beyond SeeDs being elite fighters, weapon specialists with extensive knowledge on para-magic, everything concerning Garden was wrapped in mystique. Even the entry requirements beyond the age limit were unknown. He'd never met anyone that had gotten as far as tryouts until now.

"No, they only gave him a time and place to show up at," Nolan answered blandly, taking his time with slicing the onions in his own disorganized way.

Calder dried a pan in his hand, facing Nolan. "He must be excited."

"He can't talk about anything else; it's annoying as hell." Nolan replied, using a bit more force as he cut into another onion. Trevor and his brother Conner had already talked his ears off about it—Calder didn't need to start as well.

"I'm sure you would've been the same," Calder said, knowing how badly Nolan wanted to be a SeeD. Ever since his kid brother heard about the mercenaries and witnessed one of them in action using para-magic, the boy didn't speak about anything but Garden this, Garden that; Squall Leonhart this, the commander's latest mission that. Nothing else filled his brother's mind.

"If Garden had known about Esthar when I was young enough to join, then they would've begged me to join, not the other way around," Nolan pointed out with a raise of his eyebrows, ignoring Seifer's snort. "They would have put me on missions with the Commander himself the moment I graduated."

Calder smiled softly at his brother's hero worship. Everything always came back to the man in charge of the SeeDs, to the mysterious commander without a face to go with the name. Sometimes he wondered if it was all just a big sham; a big publicity stunt to get boys like Nolan to sign up and try out for Garden with the promise that they too could become a hero some day. At the stretching silence, he turned to look at his brother and at the pensive expression that greeted him, he stilled his cleaning.

"I heard he got injured during his last mission." A crease appeared between Nolan's brows.

"The one with the big snake?" Calder asked, having already heard the story a million times over.

"I heard it managed to get its fangs into him good and throw him high up into the air." Nolan's gaze grew increasingly unfocused.

Calder almost snorted at the look, realizing the account only made Nolan admire the man more, the grim reality of battle more tangible with the added details.

"Man, I would've loved to see the fight," Nolan said, snapping back to reality from the battlefield where he'd just watched a hardened warrior take down a dangerous monster. "You know, I took down a Mesmerize last week," he added, unable to help himself from showing off even when he knew his brother would have a heart attack at his words.

"You did _what_?" Calder demanded, immediately lowering the plate he'd just grabbed back into the sink. He'd never liked Nolan's decision to become a fighter in the first place and had advised their parents against it when his brother had first talked about it. He knew he was a hypocrite, having chosen that line of work himself, but he couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to his brother. And Nolan was different from him, always had been. He was reckless. Calder knew right away that the boy wouldn't stick to his schedule at the SCTA, that something like this would happen.

"Yeah, Trevor and I went out to the plains and killed one. It was _awesome,_" Nolan said with a big smile and a puffed out chest.

Seifer was grinning too, thinking back on how he and Squall had snuck off to fight their first real T-Rexaur. The thrill of fighting something that didn't just freeze and dematerialize if they got badly injured like the fake ones at Garden had lured them outside. He knew neither of them had ever regretted the instance nor the ones that followed. He could still recall the rush he'd felt when the large creature finally hit the ground; how the earth vibrated and dust was thrown up in a large circle around the creature.

"Well shit, kiddo, color me impressed," he said, glad to see Nolan showing some of the guts the little brat always bragged about.

"Don't encourage him," Calder admonished as he considered the proud look in his brother's eyes. He was still only coming to terms with Nolan learning how to fight. Imagining the boy out there, risking actual injury made him want to lock the boy up and throw away the key.

"He wants to learn how to fight—that's the way to do it," Seifer stated, a firm proponent of learning by doing. He'd tried persuading the board at the SCTA a couple of times already, but they would hear none of his suggestions of excursions. In their opinion, fighting monsters was the task of the elite forces within the Estharian army—not teenagers just learning the trade. In Seifer's opinion it wasn't anything a couple of Potions, Elixirs, and perhaps a Phoenix Down couldn't take care of.

Walking over to where Nolan had finished dicing the onions, Seifer grabbed the chopping board. "Bring back the horn next time," he said, planning on making Nolan a dagger out of it as a trophy.

"Sure," Nolan said, smiling broadly at the order. When Seifer walked away again, Nolan hoisted himself back onto the kitchen counter.

Watching the exchange with crossed arms, Calder sent them both a narrow-eyed glare.

"What?" Seifer asked, his smile waning as he met Calder's gaze. He knew Nolan was the guy's brother and all, but surely Calder could identify with the sweet satisfaction of having landed your first kill. "You remember what it was like."

"What _what_ was like?" Calder returned, his expression not easing in the slightest.

"Taking down your first monster," Seifer supplied as he turned to add some vegetables to a pan on top of the stove.

"I do," Calder said, pausing briefly as he recalled the way the Torama had collapsed, lifeless, in front of him, its blood permeating the desert sand as its magic slowly relinquished its hold on him. He had been told what magic would feel like and thought he'd been prepared for it, but the _sting_ and _burns_ had ensnared his mind; in the end his instructor had been the one to finish the creature off for him, a creature that had done nothing wrong, a creature _they _had hunted down.

"It was after I'd been accepted into my current unit. We went out on a training mission. We had _supervisors_, Seifer—we didn't just go out there and experiment with monsters that could possibly use magic against us—we didn't just go out there _on our own_."

Seifer shook his head in disbelief, his smile long gone. He couldn't believe Calder would give him this kind of crap. _Fucking Estharians—don't know fuck all about the world. _"You guys are too fucking sheltered," he said, rolling his eyes.

"You're saying you used to go off fighting monsters on your own?" Calder raised his eyebrows.

"All the time," Seifer replied without hesitation, the corner of his lips curving upwards. When he hadn't been sparring with Squall, he'd been out hunting monsters. Either that or they'd been out hunting monsters together. "It was great."

When he glanced in Nolan's direction, he saw his own passion mirrored in the boy's eyes. "I'll take you out to a good spot soon and we'll take down something bigger."

Before Calder could protest, Seifer held out a hand to silence the man and returned his attention to the meal he was preparing. "If you want to play mommy, you can join us, but we're doing this."

Sighing loudly, Calder walked over and gave Seifer a light whack to the head, only managing to earn himself a lopsided smirk for the effort. He always lost when Nolan and Seifer teamed up against him. And he had to concede that them going out with Nolan had some merit: at least Nolan would learn how to fight monsters and deal with magic attacks in a relatively safe way. He wasn't looking forward to it, but he'd deal.

Nolan and Seifer shared a triumphant look and Seifer began pondering where to take the boy. Nolan wondered just what Seifer considered "big."

Behind them, Calder groaned—he didn't know how he'd ended up surrounded by such reckless idiots.

* * *

**[Calder Madar's Apartment, Vascaroon Building, Sunday, 19th of October, 8:38 pm]**

Apart from the bright colors that flickered across the TV screen, darkness filled the living room. Nolan was lounging comfortably in the armchair, his legs dangling over the armrest, while Seifer lay sprawled along the couch. Victim of his brother's and friend's self-indulgence, Calder was evicted to the far end of the couch as the three of them watched one of the many new movies filmed after the war.

Seifer shifted on the couch. He rarely watched movies, never really had time for them, nor the inclination. The poorly-acted instructional videos forced upon them at Garden had made him gag. The low-budget movies back then had never appealed to him either. Laughable get-ups and cardboard sets just weren't worth his time. Not even the porn he confiscated as part of the DC had held his attention long; after a couple, he'd had his fill.

Refocusing on the film before him, he grabbed some popcorn. A flood of shitty movies like this one had been released after Adel's tomb fell from the sky and radio wave transmission became possible again. Old movie reels found new life beyond the local cinema theater and were broadcast along with new productions as more and more people got TVs in their homes. The Estharian government had even put up large screens all around the city to easily communicate with the public. When public announcements lacked, live news coverage appeared on the screens instead. At least at home Seifer could escape the medium. He didn't plan on buying a TV anytime soon.

"Moron," Nolan commented from his position in the armchair, talking to one of the people on the screen. "Even an idiot could see that coming a mile off," he added, shifting slightly in his seat.

The opening was too easy for Seifer to overlook. "Well observed." The glare sent his way was as predictable as the boy's retort.

"Fuck off."

Calder sighed and leaned forward in his seat. "Nolan," he said, his voice firm.

"What?" Nolan demanded in return. "Seifer swears ten times more than me." It wasn't a lie. If anything, the blond had taught him almost every swear word he knew.

Holding back a sigh, Calder pointed out the obvious. "He's not my brother."

Nolan returned his gaze to the TV. "Thank Hyne for that," he added under his breath.

Seifer chuckled lightly from his position on the couch. "Don't worry Sweet-Pea, I know you love me."

"Whatever," Nolan said, looking briefly at Seifer as he said it, his eyes narrowed.

Reminded of Squall by the grumpy expression and annoyed dismissal, Seifer grinned. "Ah, sweet puberty," he said with mock delight.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Nolan demanded, his eyes immediately back on Seifer.

"Just congratulating you on reaching puberty," Seifer replied. "You're now officially an annoying teenager."

"Well congratulations on being an asshole," Nolan retorted, wishing imminent death upon the blond.

"Guys," Calder interjected. He'd listened to Seifer and Nolan bicker all day—there was only so much he could take.

Appearing as if the movie had recaptured his attention, Nolan instead contemplated how to get the blond back. As he tuned out the movie completely, the answer came to him easily. He knew what had happened the week before, how Seifer had been supposed to meet up with Calder but never showed. He also knew a man opened the door to Seifer's apartment the morning after, only half dressed. It reeked of one of Seifer's one night stands. "Hey Seif... Who was that guy at your apartment last Thursday?"

The casual way Nolan asked the question didn't fool Seifer. "None of your business, kiddo." Two could play at the game of nonchalance.

Narrowing his eyes, Nolan considered Seifer's tactic. Either the blond really didn't care about him bringing up the topic, or he'd hit the jackpot. Seifer only kept himself under enough control to appear unaffected when he truly had something to hide. Time to up the ante. But what would rile Seifer up the most: insulting the blond's choice in men or spilling Seifer's secret? Unable to choose, he decided to do both.

"Weren't you supposed to meet Calder last Wednesday eve?" he started out, keeping an innocent facade even though he knew the question was anything but. Yet it failed to illicit a reaction from the blond. _Interesting._

"You know, it's kinda incriminating to have a half naked guy answer your door the morning after you're supposed to meet someone else," he said, foregoing subtlety.

That finally caught the blond's attention. Watching as Seifer moved from his slouched position to stare at him, Nolan had to suppress a grin.

"You might want to shut up right about now," Seifer supplied darkly. If the boy had any wits about him he would do just that.

"Why?" Nolan asked, a slight upwards tug at the corner of his lips giving away his true game. "Feeling cornered?"

Seifer all but growled. "Feeling just about ready to wring your neck."

Borderline managing to keep a straight face, Nolan pressed on. "Oh, so you did stand Calder up then?" he asked, not missing the way Seifer's jaw clenched. He knew he was almost there. The eruption would be spectacular. "For that arrogant ladyboy?" he added, the taste of revenge sweet on his tongue.

Clenching his fists, Seifer barely restrained the urge to deck Nolan. The little shit could be such an unbelievable pain in the ass. Not only did he now have to deal with explaining the whole thing to Calder, but Nolan had actually referred to Squall as a—

His fingers twitched, his mouth went dry—he saw his fist impacting with Nolan's stomach, the boy doubling over in pain—yet he hadn't moved an inch.

At the murderous expression on Seifer's face, Calder stood from the couch. He had to intervene. Either that or he'd end up with a severely injured or dead brother. But just before he figured out what to say, Nolan cut him off, the smirk on the boy's face warning him things were just about to get worse.

"I thought you liked guys, not femme-bo—" As he jumped out of his chair, Nolan forgot the rest of his sentence. Placing more space between himself and Seifer seemed vitally important the moment the blond rose from the couch. He'd expected things to turn physical—some horseplay—but the way Seifer looked at him didn't have much playfulness about it. Neither did the way the blond stalked closer.

"Okay, guys, relax," Calder said in a rush, moving closer.

Seifer caught the quick dart to Nolan's eyes that betrayed the boy's intention to make a break for it. By the time Nolan set off into a sprint, Seifer had already moved to intercept him and seized hold of the boy. Placing Nolan in a hammerlock, he made sure the boy couldn't move without inflicting pain on himself.

"First of all," he said in a low voice, his mouth placed behind Nolan's ear, "he's a friend." He applied a fraction more pressure, stopping when a slight crease appeared between Nolan's brows. "Second of all," he paused for emphasis, "_no one_ talks about him like that. Got it?"

A couple of seconds passed before Nolan nodded. Feeling Seifer release his hold, he moved forward a step and took a deep breath. He didn't dare meet the blond's gaze.

Somewhat calmer, Seifer cursed inwardly as he moved towards the kitchen. "I'm going to get a drink." He didn't spare either of the Madar brothers another glance before leaving the room.

He placed the bottle of Penderyn on the counter harshly and got out two tumblers. Pouring himself a full glass of the golden whiskey, he immediately brought it to his lips. The first three swigs went down quickly. Telling Calder about Squall was unavoidable now. Even though they could both sleep with whoever they liked, standing Calder up had been another bad consequence of everything that happened that night. He probably should have come clean from the start. He just didn't want to talk about Squall or any of what had happened.

Empty glass in hand, Seifer gathered the second glass and the bottle in his other hand and returned to the living room. No background sound greeted him; the TV had been turned off. Calder looked over at him from where the man had resumed his seat at the end of the couch. He couldn't see Nolan.

"Don't tell me I actually managed to scare the little shit off." Seifer placed the glasses and whiskey on the coffee table.

Watching as Seifer sat down and put his feet up on the table, Calder raised an eyebrow. "You did put on quite a show."

"Hn." Seifer still mostly blamed Nolan. Granted, the boy didn't know how strongly he would react, but he'd been out of line nonetheless.

Pouring himself a glass of Penderyn, Calder leaned back in his seat. Seifer's expression was blank, but the blond had brought along a glass for him. Maybe he would finally find out what had happened. He hadn't seen Seifer much since the man turned up on his doorstep Thursday night. Apart from the time they'd spent together since their spar that very afternoon, he'd only seen Seifer in the mornings when he'd gotten out of bed and at those times the blond had been fast asleep. He'd vaguely registered the blond joining him in bed in the early hours of the morning, but they hadn't spoken then either. He assumed Seifer had spent his time at Arc's from the faint smell of soot clinging to the blond.

The atypical behavior he'd witnessed the last couple of days coincided suspiciously with what Nolan had divulged. The timing fit perfectly. Seifer must've met the guy Nolan had mentioned Wednesday night and brought him home, and that's when things had gone downhill. Seifer's mood was already off when he'd met the blond at the SCTA Thursday evening. Something else must have happened after their spar, something that caused the blond to come stay at his apartment. From what he could deduce, Seifer hadn't been back to his own apartment since.

Studying Seifer closely, he leaned over and filled up both their glasses. The blond remained silent, green eyes studying the golden liquid. Calder tapped his glass softly. "What happened?"

A slight crease took shape between Seifer's brow for a few seconds but quickly disappeared again.

"He used to be my sparring partner." Seifer knocked back another healthy swig of the whiskey. "He was at Pulse."

Calder's eyes rose from Seifer's drink at "sparring partner." He didn't know much about Seifer's past, only a few names of friends and sweethearts that were mentioned in passing. Seifer always avoided talking about his training, about where he came from. He figured if the past was a sore point for Seifer, then why delve into it. What mattered was the fun they had in each other's company.

"I offered him Avalanche."

Pulled from his thoughts, Calder recognized the true meaning behind the words. "You slept with him?"

The way green eyes stayed locked on the whiskey in his glass as he took another large gulp of the golden liquid was the only answer Calder needed.

"So?" Most guys would give their right arm for a night of Avalanche and sex with Seifer.

"He's not fucking gay. I gave him Avalanche and _seduced_ him," Seifer bit out as he placed his empty glass firmly on the coffee table. He grabbed hold of the bottle of Penderyn and poured himself another glass. "He's too fucking sexy for his own good."

Silence fell as Calder watched Seifer sip on his drink with a grim expression. He didn't know what to make of Seifer's words. There'd been instances where he'd slept with someone he wouldn't have if it hadn't been for Avalanche. He'd done things that left him disgusted the morning after. But as far as changing your sexual orientation, he remained skeptical. "You're sure he's straight?"

A loud "yes" resounded in Seifer's mind. After he'd realized which way he swung himself, he'd toyed with the idea of Squall being gay and the guy wearing the clothes he had when they were younger just to entice him—to show him how fucking irresistible he was.

But he knew better than that. Squall just happened to have an unfortunate proclivity for dark leather and belts—a style that had the accidental side effect of turning the brunet into just about any gay guy's walking wet dream. He'd wager Squall was entirely clueless when it came to his effect on guys; he could easily imagine how Squall would react if he ever found out, how gloved fingers would reach to pinch the bridge of his nose in instant vexation.

The fact that Rinoa and Squall had been in a long term relationship was the main clue. And he had to admit, when he'd found out about them he hadn't been surprised by Squall's sexuality; what had surprised him had been the brunet entering a relationship in the first place. He'd always assumed Squall to be a frigid bastard incapable of getting intimate with anyone, male or female.

"I take that as a no," Calder supplied at the stretching silence.

"He's straight alright," Seifer replied grimly. "If it hadn't been for the drugs, he would never have let me touch him."

The amount of self-reproach behind Seifer's words temporarily stilled Calder's tongue. Why Seifer was taking it all upon himself eluded him. "Unless you forced the pill down his throat, this isn't your fault."

Seifer snorted in reply, before gulping down more of the whisky. At the end of the couch, Calder slouched back into a more comfortable position. A warm buzz from the alcohol was settling throughout him, adding to his confusion. He still had no clue why Seifer was staying with him.

"If he was so averse to your company, then why did he stay? I mean, he was still there when Nolan dropped by," he said, voicing the glaring flaw in what he'd been told so far.

Seifer narrowed his eyes and took another sip of whiskey. "We had unfinished business."

Shaking his head slightly at the blond's grim demeanor and evasive reply, Calder went on. "This guy..." he began, hinting at Seifer to give him a name so he wouldn't have to continue to refer to him as "the guy" or "he," but when the blond didn't catch on or plain stubbornly refused to humor him, he continued, "... he's the reason you're staying here?"

It was a while before Seifer relented to an answer, his words measured. "I told him he could stay at my apartment."

"Why?" Calder immediately asked. It didn't make sense for Seifer to make such an offer nor did it make sense for the guy to stay unless he wanted to stay.

"I made the fucking mess," Seifer let out hotly, unable to restrain himself. Trying to curb his emotions, he grit his teeth. "His girlfriend found out," he let out under his breath.

Everything suddenly fell into place for Calder. Seifer's behavior, what had happened, why Seifer was staying there. Seifer _liked_ the guy and the guy had a girlfriend. It probably didn't help that Seifer'd had a taste of something he wanted more of, something that was off limits. Almost amused at the pure simplicity of it all, Calder just shook his head softly. Sometimes Seifer could be such a baby. He'd never witnessed it taken to such an extent before, but he'd certainly dealt with the man's more outward bouts of grumpiness at not getting his way. Feeling the urge to knock some sense into the man, he instead got up from the couch.

"You can stay as long as you want," he said, regarding the blond firmly. When fierce green eyes met his, he suppressed the urge to roll his own and instead turned and left the room. He knew the anger wasn't directed at him-that it was just an outward reflection of Seifer's inner turmoil. It meant the best thing to do was to just leave the blond alone.

As Calder left the room, Seifer emptied his fourth glass of whiskey. First Calder hadn't been able to get enough answers and then all of a sudden the brunet had just up and left, as if what he'd said had been _stupid_. Pouring another healthy helping of the Penderyn sloppily into his glass, he took another greedy gulp and relished the bitter sting that caressed the back of his throat. Calder could go fuck himself... along with his stupid questions.

In the end none of it mattered. He'd fucked up, _again_, yes, but it would all be over soon. In fact, it probably already was. Tomorrow, after he finished his work at the SCTA, he'd go home and see if Squall was still there. At the off-chance the brunet was, he'd just grab some stuff and return to Calder's. And if he wasn't, well, then that would be the end of it.

Placing his empty glass on the coffee table, he rose from the couch and headed for the bedroom as well. For now he'd keep the past out of his mind, something he'd become quite skilled at.

* * *

**[Zayin House, Chimera District, Monday, 20th of October, 11:54 pm]**

Reminding himself that he'd just go in there, pack some stuff and assure Squall that he could stay there for as long as he wanted without any disturbances, Seifer straightened from his slouched position. As long as the brunet didn't push any of hisbuttons, they'd be fine.

Stepping into the hallway, he started the short trek to his apartment. He tried to empty his mind, but the thoughts wouldn't disappear. As he slid his key into the lock of his front door, he stopped, his hand resting on the handle.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open, standing absolutely still.

Only darkness greeted him.

_You'll never see Squall again_.

He didn't enter.

Until that moment he'd been too busy ignoring everything to consider what would happen if Squall decided to leave. He'd thought he never wanted to see the brunet again plenty of times, but upon facing the prospect of never actually seeing him again and having no way of contacting him, he felt his chest tighten. His heart pounded against his chest.

Forcing himself to enter the apartment, he switched on the light. Upon seeing everything in its right place, he almost switched the light off again just to avoid the empty room.

Just a week ago he'd all but forgotten about Squall apart from when others would bring up the man's name. _Nothing_ had happened since then to change things. They weren't even _friends_.

His eyes traveled to the small plastic bag with brightly colored pills lying on the kitchen counter.

Slamming the door behind him, he strode over to the counter and grabbed hold of the bag only to throw it into one of the drawers. This wasn't _right_. He'd learnt how to deal with what life had thrown his way and had moved on, but _of course_ Squall had to mess with that. He shoved the drawer shut, but felt no calmer for the abuse.

Continuing into the bedroom, he only made it past the threshold before stopping abruptly into place—he didn't need to turn on the lights to know what would greet him: mussed sheets and an almost empty bottle of lube. Dried come.

Fisting his hands and clenching his jaw, he walked over to grab a pillow. Within seconds he was back in the living room. Switching off the lights, he made for the couch, not wanting to think _at all_ any longer. Yanking hold of a blanket, he flopped onto the couch and closed his eyes.

But all he could think of was Squall; all he could see were gray-blue eyes watching him in a way he'd never thought possible. All he could feel were the touch of cool fingers seeking him out and pulling him closer.

Pulling him in for a kiss.

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks to Aera for her wonderful edits and merry Christmas to everyone!


	13. Unlikely Alliance

**~ Chapter Thirteen - Unlikely Alliance ~**

* * *

**[Seifer Almasy's Apartment, Zayin House, Tuesday, 21st of October, 8:43 am]**

The hesitant knock at Seifer's front door didn't register at first. None of his muscles moved in reaction, his body remaining entirely lost to sleep. When the knock came again it had turned into urgent rapping, finally pulling him from his dreams.

With a groan, Seifer pushed off his blanket and stood up from the couch. Unable to open his eyes properly, he staggered blindly in the direction of the door and let out a curse when he accidentally stubbed his toe against the coffee table. Pushing open the door, he slumped against its frame and brought up a hand to his forehead in an attempt to massage the tiredness away.

Just outside in the hallway Rinoa stood wide-eyed, a slight blush creeping onto her cheeks at Seifer's unclothed form. The pair of boxers failed to hide that the blond had only just woken up, the tented fabric leaving little to the imagination. Keeping her gaze strictly on Seifer's face, she quickly molded her features back into a neutral expression.

"Good morning, Seifer," she said in a clipped voice. She almost hadn't managed to pull it off, her distrust with the man temporarily trumped by the sight in front of her. She hadn't expected Seifer to be so caught off guard, to look so tired.

"Rinoa...?" Valiantly trying to open his eyes, Seifer squinted as the bright light of the hallway flooded his vision.

Rinoa took advantage of Seifer's sleep addled state and briskly walked past him into the apartment without invitation. Her gaze lingered briefly on the couch where the blond had been sleeping, his clothes lying messily on the floor beside it. The small, windowless space didn't hold any trace of Squall's presence—neither of the brunet's gunblade cases were present, no leather jacket on the hanger by the door, not even a conspicuous second cup of coffee on the counter.

"...Is he here?" she asked faintly. She had searched all over Esthar for Squall, had considered even the unlikeliest places for him to go, Laguna's included. Desperate, she had told herself that Squall was probably with Seifer, that he simply wasn't picking up her phone calls because he was avoiding her. Squall _had_ to be here.

"What...?" Seifer said, closing the door behind him as he turned around to watch Rinoa. When he finally realized who she was referring to, his eyebrows shot up.

"Squall?" he asked, nearly snorting at the girl's assumption. "I haven't seen him since Thursday."

Casting a distrustful look at the pillow and blanket lying on the couch, Rinoa ignored the man's sleep dazed statement and strode towards the only other door in the room. Hands clenching and features darkening, she was ready to give Squall a rough wake-up call as she flipped on the lights. How _dare_ he make her worry like tha—

Staring into an empty bedroom, she walked farther inside, her eyebrows knitting together. The sheets were messy and obviously slept in, and a bottle of lube she wished she hadn't spotted pointed at _other_ activities. Stopping in place, her hands clenched into fists as she realized what she had walked into; the place Squall and Seifer had—

Interrupting her train of thought and taking a moment to _breathe_, she forced herself to note that there was no luggage here, no duffel bags or anything that indicated Squall's presence. A brief glance into the bathroom confirmed his absence.

Her gaze traveled back to the incriminating state of the bed. If Seifer hadn't seen Squall since Thursday, then he had moved on to new bed partners rather quickly. The unfairness of it all stung. Seifer had _had_ Squall, completely and unconditionally, but apparently it hadn't meant a thing. Jealousy would have overwhelmed her then, if the sudden damning realization that _Squall_ _wasn't here,_ hadn't snapped her back into the present.

Hurrying back into the living area, she fixed Seifer and the couch with a narrow-eyed gaze. "Why are you sleeping on the couch?"

"That's not really any of your business," Seifer answered coldly, restraining himself from speaking the blunt words on his mind. Mentioning his own bed and Squall's come in one sentence probably wasn't a wise move.

Registering his state of undress, he ignored his visitor and headed for the bedroom. He didn't understand why Rinoa had come looking for Squall at his place—his apartment was the last place the brunet would be.

Dressed, he returned to the living room. Stopping to lean against the door frame, he crossed his arms. "What are you doing here?"

Moving her attention away from the rather plain looking apartment, Rinoa turned around to meet the blond's glare in kind. "Don't give me that look, Seifer. It's not as if I was dying to come and ask you," she bit back, wishing Seifer would skip the confrontational act for once. "... Do you know where he is?"

Seifer rolled his eyes. "I already told you. I haven't seen him since Thursday. And we didn't exactly part on friendly terms."

Looking at the blond warily for that last sentence, Rinoa was reminded of how distraught Squall's end of the bond had felt that night. With each new piece of the puzzle that fell into place, it seemed less and less likely that Seifer was lying to her. "I just thought you might know more. This was the last place I could think of..."

Suppressing a snort at Rinoa's statement, grimly amused by the fact that he wasn't alone in thinking as much, Seifer regarded her levelly. "Weren't you supposed to meet him?"

Rinoa narrowed her eyes at the statement. "We did meet," she confirmed, forcing herself to put aside her slighted feelings for Squall's sake. "But... he hasn't called since, even though he said he would." Her thoughts returned to the "symptoms" Odine had mentioned so indifferently. "I'm worried."

Having little patience for Rinoa's words and the way she was fussing over Squall, Seifer huffed. "He's a grown man, Rinoa. Give him some credit. He probably got called out for a mission," he said as he pushed away from the door to make his way to the kitchen. He couldn't believe he was getting dragged into this. The trifles of Mr. and Mrs. Leonhart, what a joke.

Temporarily stunned by Seifer's uncaring reply, Rinoa's eyes suddenly widened in understanding. "You don't know?"

"Seifer... We met to sever our bond as knight and sorceress. He was supposed to check in with both me and Odine every twenty four hours, but he hasn't. At first I thought he just needed time... but... he's not answering his phone. He's not at the apartment or at La—"

Catching herself just in time, the president's name died on her lips. She already had enough on her plate, without having to explain why Laguna's was a possible place for Squall to go. Certain that she had conveyed the reasons for her concern, she faced Seifer head-on. "I need to make sure he's okay."

His entire posture growing tense, Seifer stopped himself in the middle of pouring a bowl of cereal. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard.

When Ultimecia and his own bond had been cut, he'd been in a bad state. Bad didn't even begin to cover it. He wouldn't have survived if it hadn't been for Raijin and Fujin. The thought that Squall was out there, alone, going through something similar made his blood run cold.

"I don't know where he'd go," he said, his voice tight at the realization. He didn't know Squall anymore. How was he supposed to find him, when he didn't even know where to search?

"When you saw him—how was he?" he asked, hoping his gut feeling was wrong. Maybe he was just getting worked up over nothing. Maybe it was different when the bond was broken with the consent of both parties. He wouldn't put it beyond Squall to just disappear as a way of dealing with a break-up.

"At the time he seemed better than I expected... considering the situation anyway... I was hurt at his lack of reaction." Berating herself, Rinoa paused to let out a humorless laugh. Because of her own pettiness, she had failed to look out for subtler indications of something being off. "The more I think about it... For over two years I was able to feel his state of mind through our bond. I've never learned to read him any other way."

Taking a deep breath to keep her voice from quivering, her gaze fell to the floor. She should have known better, shouldn't have let Squall's seemingly indifferent attitude get to her. He _always_ acted indifferent. "His movements were a bit unsteady, but... it didn't seem that bad... He wouldn't look at me and only stayed long enough for Odine to give him his medication."

Listening to her words, Seifer clenched his hands. _A bit unsteady,_ his mind repeated mockingly, wanting to scold the girl for being so blind. Rinoa should have known what that meant. She should have known things weren't right if Squall's moves weren't measured and precise.

Breakfast left untouched, he walked over to grab his jacket. "Come on, we'll find him," he said as he pushed open the front door.

Watching Seifer's hurried movements across the room, Rinoa realized he had been _serious_ over the phone when saying he cared about Squall. She couldn't quite wrap her head around the notion, regardless of what Squall had told her. But there Seifer stood by the door, impatiently waiting for her to follow.

Prepared to bury their grievances for the time being, she decided that any questions she had would have to wait and followed Seifer into the hallway.

"Thank you, Seifer."

Not acknowledging Rinoa's words, Seifer closed the door behind them. Heading down the hallway, he didn't turn to check if she was following. He would much have preferred to do things on his own and wouldn't have thought twice about ditching her if he'd stood a chance of finding Squall on his own.

"My pickup's just down the road."

Getting out his cell phone, he dialed Arc's number, having to take care of work. "Hey, old man," he said when the line was finally picked up. "I'm not coming in today."

"And the blaster edge?" the smith asked.

Reminded of the job he still had to finish, Seifer hesitated. "Tomorrow... Tell the customer it'll be ready then."

"You better get in early then," Arc grumbled after a slight pause.

Annoyed at letting Arc down, Seifer's expression hardened. "Sure. See you tomorrow," he said, hanging up. Nothing he could do about it now. Returning his attention to Rinoa, he needed to get a handle on the situation. "Where have you looked?"

Starting from her surprise that Seifer had blown off work, Rinoa tore her gaze from the cell phone in the man's hand. "Well... There aren't that many places he could be, and I've checked those already. Aside from you, there isn't really anybody else in Esthar he might go to."

The only people Squall knew in Esthar were Laguna, Seifer, and herself. He'd never stayed long enough in the metropolis to start favoring certain places, so she had quickly exhausted the rather short list of possible hiding spots for the brunet.

"It does seem like he returned to our apartment at a certain point, but that might have been before we met. And he left his key behind, so he won't be returning... Also, his car isn't parked at Odine's lab anymore, so he did manage to go somewhere from there."

"How about Garden? Have you contacted them?"

Features darkening at recalling the rather unpleasant phone call, Rinoa nodded before answering, as both of them walked into the elevator. "They haven't heard from him..."

At least Quistis had been on another continent, well out of strangling range when she'd had to break the news; not only about the bond, but also about the fact that she'd broken up with Squall months ago. She had tried to be nonchalant when inquiring after Squall's whereabouts and knew that if it wasn't for Quistis' experience with Squall's tendency to avoid other people when brooding, the woman would already have dispatched a search party to Esthar. If they didn't find Squall soon, she would request the search party herself. But, as long as there was still a chance that Squall was just hiding out somewhere, she didn't want to bring the whole of Garden down on their heads.

"...Quistis is livid with me for not having told her about Squall and me."

Seifer had to fight hard to keep from voicing his own accusations. He couldn't believe she had let Squall leave straight after they'd broken their bond. Both she and Squall should have realized anything that dealt with the powers of a sorceress shouldn't be taken lightly.

"Where does he normally go when he's out?" he asked as they walked out the elevator. "Anywhere he likes to hang out? Relax? Work out?"

Rinoa shook her head and sighed. "I told you, I already considered the places he could be... He's only in Esthar for diplomatic meetings or when he's on leave, in between missions, and then he'd be with me. He always takes off after a couple of days again, so I don't think he has any of those places in Esthar."

Stopping abruptly in his tracks, Seifer ran a hand through his hair. If they didn't have a clue where to look, then where the hell were they going? They needed a hunch, a hint, _something_.

No ideas came. All his mind supplied was the image of Squall taking his frustration out on some monsters or losing himself to training, which implied an SCTA or a monster infested area outside the city. Something was wrong though; somehow he knew Squall wouldn't be at any of those places. But the SCTA...

Of course. _Calder_.

"I know someone who can help us."

Picking up his stride, he walked down the street with new found determination. Getting out his phone, he entered the man's phone number and brought the cell to his ear.

"Heya," a young voice answered at the other end of the line.

"Hand me Calder," Seifer instructed. He didn't have time to deal with Nolan.

"Seif'," the boy greeted, sounding entirely unperturbed at the order. "What're you up to?"

"Nolan, get your brother on the line. _Now._" Seifer's voice brooked no argument.

"Why aren't you at Arc's?"

"_Now_."

"Okay, okay, relax..." the boy finally conceded before the line went quiet as the phone passed hands.

"Calder," the boy's older brother answered.

"Hey," Seifer said in greeting, his features relaxing somewhat. "Look, I need your help."

"Are you in trouble?"

"No, I'm fine," Seifer replied, wanting to get to the point. "I need your help locating someone."

"Sure," Calder said, accommodating as usual.

Relieved to have Calder's aid, Seifer put his cell phone in his other hand as he crossed the street outside his building. Considering what information they had that could be used to locate Squall, he briefly looked in Rinoa's direction. "We have a phone number and a license plate," he said, certain the girl would have at least as much. "Will that be enough?"

"It should be," Calder replied, before adding a reminder for the blond. "But you know it's my week off."

Seifer grimaced at the man's reply. "Will it be a problem?"

"No, it shouldn't be," Calder replied without hesitation. "I'm sure we can figure out some form of payment," he continued, his voice easily giving away exactly what _kind_ of payment he would prefer.

A smirk appeared on Seifer's lips, the banter taking away some of the tension that had taken hold of him since Rinoa's arrival. "Get your mind out of the gutter."

"I thought you liked it there."

At the words, Seifer's smirk grew. "You're sidetracking."

"Perhaps," Calder admitted. "I'll be outside headquarters in fifteen minutes," he said, hanging up.

Closing his phone, Seifer got out his car keys. Moving into the driver's seat, he pushed open the passenger door and waited for Rinoa to get in.

Struggling to keep her expression neutral, Rinoa stared at Seifer for a few seconds; even the one side of the conversation she had just overheard was enough to raise an entire new array of questions and suspicions. Curbing the uncensored words lying on the tip of her tongue, she slipped into the passenger's seat. Seifer was already operating on a short fuse. She'd have to venture carefully.

The engine roared to life when Seifer put his key in the ignition. As he pulled out of the parking spot and headed in the direction of Calder's workplace, he felt somewhat relieved. At least they stood a chance of finding Squall now.

But the sentiment didn't last long, as the image of Squall lying passed out somewhere asserted itself. He couldn't believe Rinoa had let three whole days pass before getting to this point. Squall was a man of his word; the minute the guy hadn't phoned in as promised, she should have known something was off.

"So who is this Calder?" Rinoa asked, her eyes trained on the blond's face in scrutiny. It had been a man on the other end of the phone. A _man_ who Seifer apparently knew well enough to ask for help and who needed to be told to get his mind out of the gutter.

Her thoughts involuntarily traveled back to the state of the blond's bed, and she had to make a conscious effort to keep a deepening frown from her face.

"He's my sparring partner."

"... I see... How exactly can he help us find Squall?" Rinoa asked as she turned her gaze away from the blond and moved to watch the street view.

Stopping at an intersection, Seifer briefly regarded the girl sitting in his passenger seat. "He works for the government. For one of their SWAT teams."

Rinoa hummed softly in understanding, before firing away her next question. "A gunblade sparring partner?"

Not understanding her interest in Calder and not really caring, Seifer brought his eyes back on the traffic and just let out a low hum in reply.

"That's nice," she commented neutrally, not letting what she thought of Seifer's apparent tendency to bed his sparring partners show on her face. Reminded of the few gunbladers they had tried to set Squall up with after the war, not a single one ever meeting the brunet's ridiculous standards, it somehow seemed unfair to her that Seifer had moved on when Squall hadn't been able to.

"...Squall never seemed to like sparring much after the war. He just trains on his own," she remarked offhandedly, peering sideways to gauge Seifer's reaction.

Seifer's expression grew solemn. He had been Squall's only real sparring partner before the war. It didn't take a genius to figure out the true meaning behind her words; yet another way he had fucked up. _This_, finding Squall, was something he _had_ to do right.

"We'll find him, Rinoa," he said as he briefly looked in her direction and held her gaze.

Rinoa wasn't sure what she had wanted to provoke with her remark, but the man's somber demeanor made her feel like it had been in poor taste. As she directed her gaze out of the window with a slight frown, she wondered about Seifer's perplexing concern, Squall's belief in the blond's innocence, and how things were never as they seemed.

Street after street whizzed by but Rinoa didn't pay attention, distracted from her plan to wheedle answers out of the unsuspecting blond. Maybe Seifer really was confident that they'd find Squall, but she wasn't so convinced herself. The longer she couldn't see for herself that he was safe and sound, the more she was plagued by worst case scenarios.

The fact that Odine had even bothered developing pills at all for his former test subjects meant the symptoms had to have been substantial, enough to form a hindrance to his research. She sincerely hoped a bond differed enough from a junction to spare Squall whatever it was those volunteer hosts had suffered through...

Hands fidgeting in her lap, she whispered softly, "I hope he's alright."

"Me too."

At the softly spoken admission, Rinoa returned her gaze to the blond, wishing she could see into his head.

Seifer wasn't anything like he'd been during the war. He seemed genuinely worried about Squall, had even ditched work and offered to help without a second thought, even though he and Squall had never been friends. They had slept together, Seifer's taste in bed partners unquestionably in men. Had it meant anything at all to Seifer or was Squall just one in a series of many? If he really cared about the brunet, then how could he do such a thing?

None of it added up and she couldn't suppress her burning questions any longer, _needing_ to know whether Squall was being toyed with. "Are you gay?" she asked almost blandly, keeping her voice as non-confrontational as possible.

Glancing at Rinoa, Seifer frowned and tried to gauge her reasons for asking. He didn't like her prying, but at the same time he had nothing to hide; he would never be ashamed of his sexuality. "Yes," he replied curtly, staring straight ahead.

"And this Calder person?" Rinoa continued her questioning casually. If she had read things correctly, they were involved, but _how_ was the question. Surely not even Seifer would be as insensitive as to ask a lover to help track down someone he'd been unfaithful with.

"We're not together if that's what you're asking," Seifer supplied before returning his gaze to Rinoa.

"Ah..." Rinoa muttered. No strings attached then. Of course Seifer would be the type to play around. She didn't have any foot to stand on to start judging him for that; even her urge to accuse the blond of having toyed around with Squall left a bitter taste.

She had purposefully kept the nature of their relationship ambiguous while she had gone out with other men. Not because she had really been interested in any of them, but because she'd wanted to provoke _some_ kind of reaction in the cold brunet; shake up the unsatisfying status quo that had settled between them. It seemed whenever Squall was concerned, she would lapse into petty behavior, something she hated about herself.

But hypocrite or not, she couldn't help herself from wanting to look out for him, in spite of everything she was guilty of herself. Squall was too oblivious, too busy pretending that nothing got to him and that made Seifer a dangerous person for him to get involved with.

"What about Squall?" she asked, her gaze fixed on Seifer.

"What about him?" Seifer countered, steeling his expression. He wasn't going to show her just how much the night with Squall had affected him.

Considering for a moment whether she even wanted to hear the answer, Rinoa resolutely suppressed her feelings on the matter and finally spoke the question that had been bugging her ever since she had witnessed Seifer's uncharacteristic concern for Squall. "How do you feel about him?"

Not looking Rinoa's way, Seifer kept his eyes firmly on the road. "I already told you that I care about him. You know he's fucking sexy. You figure it out."

At the reply that was both evasive and blunt, Rinoa's composed façade finally crumbled. Seifer's reply basically meant he was interested in Squall and Hyne, going by what she had felt from Squall over the bond, the blond might very well get him too. Falling silent, she slumped back into the passenger seat.

She didn't want other people commenting that Squall was sexy. She didn't want to think about Squall with anybody other than herself, especially Seifer. Staring dead ahead, she tried to steer her thoughts back on track, to their search. It was more than unsettling to no longer feel Squall; the fact that he could be anywhere, in any kind of state, ate away at her. He could _die_ and she wouldn't know.

The bond had always been the only thing to make Squall's long missions away bearable for her, his presence a constant in her mind and his whereabouts always a certainty. Without that, she would have gone mad with worry, much like she was now.

"How long were you together?"

Not having expected for Seifer to turn the tables on her, Rinoa hesitated. It was obvious that Seifer's interest in the topic was triggered only by his interest in Squall, and somehow it felt as if answering the blond's question would come down to confirming Squall was single and available.

"...Since shortly after the war, until about five months ago." Her voice came out thick and unsteady, her gaze still fixed on the passing streets.

Seifer tightened his grip on the steering wheel. From Rinoa's voice message, he'd been certain their break-up had been recent; that what he and Squall had done had been the last straw in an already strained relationship. "Why did you break up?"

Why... A question Rinoa had asked herself many times over. She knew _why_, but sometimes she wished they never had, times when an unsatisfying status quo seemed infinitely better than nothing at all. Squall would never have left her on his own accord. If she had wanted to, she could have held on to this unrequited love for the rest of their lives.

Knowing well enough that Seifer didn't have any patience for tears, she tilted her head farther towards the window when her eyes started to burn, her long hair keeping her features obscured.

"I couldn't bear it anymore... waiting for him to finally love me back," she answered quietly, deciding that skirting the issue was pointless this far into the conversation. "I was planning to break our bond back then as well, but I thought taking it in steps would be less painful... To be honest, I wasn't ready yet to give up on him completely, so I kept him tied to me as my knight... even though I was the one to break up."

Naive mistake that had been; the only thing it had accomplished was to drag on a dysfunctional relationship for far longer than was healthy. "...Probably doesn't make much sense, huh," she spoke softly as a self-deprecating smile fell flat on her lips.

Frowning, Seifer realized he shouldn't have asked his questions. Even if the breakup had happened five months ago, it was obviously still fresh and painful to Rinoa. It all made sense; it explained why he'd gotten the impression he had. She was having trouble letting go and so was Squall.

"I'm sorry, Rinoa."

At the unexpected words, Rinoa glanced sideways to study Seifer.

The man sitting next to her had changed from the boy she used to date. Charming as he had been, attempts to talk about her feelings had consistently been met with an uncaring attitude and poorly hidden boredom. Not even when their summer together had come to a disappointing end had the blond bothered with expressing any form of "sorry." Sympathy was the last thing she had come to expect of Seifer.

Turning her gaze to watch the road in front of them, she quickly blinked her tears away. Strangely, an unsympathetic listener would have been the better option, forcing her to keep strong.

"We're almost there," Seifer said as he took a turn down Vana'diel Avenue. Spotting the police headquarters a few blocks down, he sped up.

How much could happen in three days? What state would a person be in, not drinking or eating for that long? What if they couldn't find him? What if no one did? Reaching the police headquarters, he swerved into the front drive.

Spotting Calder leaning against the hood of the man's black sedan, he pulled into the empty parking space next to it. He wasn't too keen on involving Calder, knowing he'd have to tell the man things he'd rather avoid, but it was his only option. Getting out of the car, he strode over to the man.

Pretending to straighten out her coat, Rinoa took a few deep breaths as she tried to shake the conversation with Seifer from her mind. Briefly, she let her gaze roam the sophisticated police building, a place she had never expected to visit, least of all for the reason she was now. The sight of it added an unsettling feel of gravity to the situation.

Starting into motion, she followed after Seifer to the man waiting ahead; Calder no doubt. The man was handsome, his attire casual and his short brown hair styled to stick out in all directions. His easy smile, tall build, and laid-back way of leaning against the hood of his car strangely reminded her of Irvine, minus the lewdness.

"Hey," Calder said as he held out his hand in greeting, his eyes warm and his pleasant smile never leaving his face as he looked at Rinoa.

Unable to muster a forced smile herself, Rinoa accepted the man's outstretched hand without a word, wishing they could skip on the niceties.

"Rinoa Heartilly," Seifer supplied from the sideline, his eyes trained on Calder. He wasn't keen on Rinoa and Calder meeting. He'd told Calder about Rinoa a while back; about his second failed experience with the opposite sex. The curious look Calder sent him left no room for doubt—Calder remembered her name. Yielding to a small nod, the move almost imperceptible, he confirmed the man's suspicions.

"Pleased to meet you," Calder said warmly, returning his attention to Rinoa. "It's nice to finally meet someone from Seifer's past."

Seifer's eyes narrowed at the comment. "Calder," he warned, his voice hard. There wasn't time for pleasantries.

"Of course," Calder replied, sending Seifer a disarming smile before looking back to Rinoa, giving her a smile as well. "Let's go," he said, turning around to lead the way.

The odd exchange didn't escape Rinoa. Turning to cast Seifer a questioning look, the blond was already walking ahead of her, following after Calder. So much for his considerate mood.

Releasing a sigh, she quickly followed them across the parking lot, the two men walking side by side and clearly used to each other's company. Watching their backs as she trailed behind, she wondered just what Seifer had told Calder about her, the man obviously aware of who she was... There were plenty of things to be told about her that wouldn't go over too well with an Estharian, but the brunet seemed to treat her normally so far.

As they entered the large building, Calder glanced sideways at Seifer and finally asked what had been on his mind ever since he had received the blond's phone call. "Who are you looking for?"

Not wanting to get into the specifics, especially not in public, Seifer kept his answer short and dismissive. "A friend."

"Anyone I know?" Calder immediately asked, the smile from earlier vanishing.

"No."

Calder frowned as they walked farther into the large lobby. "It wouldn't happen to be your visitor, would it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity as he looked at the blond.

Nodding, Seifer looked straight ahead, avoiding Calder's gaze. The slight concession should be enough to satisfy the man for the time being.

Upon reaching security, Calder gestured towards Rinoa and Seifer while addressing one of the guards. "These are my guests," he supplied before waiting for two guest passes to be issued, leaving him a moment to think. Looking to Rinoa first, then to Seifer, he wondered what the blond's ex was doing here and just how she fit into everything. The most incriminating evidence was her reappearance into Seifer's life only days after the blond's ex-sparring partner had found his way into Seifer's bed. Hoping he was wrong, he wondered if she was the wronged girlfriend.

The two security passes placed on the counter next to him pulled him from his thoughts. Handing them over, he turned and led Rinoa and Seifer farther into the building, past the weapons checkpoint. Soon, they were walking down an empty hallway. No one would overhear his questions here.

"When did he go missing?" he asked, his eyes traveling to regard Seifer. The blond looked to Rinoa for a reply.

Feeling the gazes of both men on her, Rinoa repeated what she had already told Seifer. "Squall was supposed to call me Saturday evening, but I haven't heard from him since that morning... at Odine's lab."

"Squall?" Calder asked, looking to the blond with an arched eyebrow. "That's quite an uncommon name," he added. Seifer met his gaze levelly.

"It is," the blond said, fed up with pretenses. Next to him Rinoa's eyes widened upon realizing her mistake.

"As in Squall _Leonhart_?" Calder asked, his jaw going slack at Seifer implication. "The _SeeD Commander_?"

Grimacing, Seifer turned around and continued down the hallway. He didn't know where they were going, but he wasn't going to waste any time on Calder having a stupid moment of being star-struck and realizing that, _yes_, it had been Squall Leonhart, the oh so great Commander of Balamb Garden, Seifer had fucked last week. He hated how everyone idolized the man. Squall was Squall and Hyne knew the man had as many flaws as anyone. Hell, the guy could barely _talk_ let alone make a relationship work with a beautiful girl that worshipped him. Them knowing each other was not a big fucking deal.

"No wonder you wouldn't tell me his name."

The words made Seifer stop in his path and glance back at where Rinoa and Calder were trying to catch up with him. He had the distinct urge to punch the stupid guy's face in. Usually Calder was pretty perceptive, but the guy was fucking _thick_ if he didn't realize that Rinoa was about to catch on any minute now and would figure out Calder knew everything as well. Things were strained enough as it was—he didn't need Rinoa to be reminded of him fucking Squall's brains out. Hell, _he_ didn't need to be reminded of that.

The stupid smile that grew on Calder's lips as the man studied him only served to further anger him. This was _not_ funny and it was _not_ a game. Hardening his gaze, he hoped his intent would register with the man.

Not intimidated by the murderous look Seifer was sending his way, Calder walked past the blond. The thought that Seifer knew and had slept with the SeeD Commander was absurd. He couldn't wrap his head around it. Nor the fact that Nolan had actually met and seen the Seed Commander. Calder had so many questions he wanted to ask Seifer, but above it all, he remembered his brother's rather damning description of the famous Commander. "If Nolan knew—" he started, but Seifer abruptly cut him off.

"He won't," the blond said harshly. Calder nodded, but his smile didn't disappear.

Trailing behind the two men, feeling much like a third wheel, Rinoa frowned. She had stupidly blurted out Squall's name and now Calder knew; he wasn't going to let it go either by the sound of things. Already he was talking about this _Nolan_ finding out as well. Why hadn't Seifer just stuck with denial? It seemed like he had been telling things about Squall that Calder only now knew to link to the name Leonhart. Going by Seifer's murderous glare, she dreaded to know just what.

She hoped that Calder could be trusted, but so far it didn't seem like he was even taking the situation seriously. The man wouldn't stop smiling in amusement, while Squall was Hyne knew where in need of help.

Calder turned to face Seifer and Rinoa as he opened a door to their left and waited for them to enter. Upon reaching him, the blond stopped right in front of him and looked at him intently, clearly warning him not to say anything further on the topic. Returning Seifer's gaze, trying to understand why the blond was behaving like a brute, the reason dawned on him.

_He_ had been the one to act like an ass. Not only had he forgotten the gravity of the situation, he'd also forgotten his earlier hunch. Rinoa _was_ the girlfriend. Growing serious upon realizing his blunder, he looked away from Seifer. There was no way he could apologize without further aggravating things. He could only do what he should have done from the beginning.

"What's his license plate and phone number?" he asked, moving to sit by a computer.

Taking the question as her cue, Rinoa cast Seifer a reproachful glare as she brushed past him to go stand next to Calder. There was only so much ignoring she could tolerate and she had the growing suspicion Seifer had only brought her along because of said license plate and phone number.

Retrieving a pen and small notebook from her bag, she scribbled down the requested information and carefully tore out the piece of paper before handing it to Calder. Fixing the man with a firm gaze, she asked straightforwardly, "How long will this take?" She wasn't in the mood for any more banter or games.

Surprised by the sudden severity to the girl's behavior, when she had mostly been subdued and hesitant so far, Calder realized his behavior definitely hadn't warmed her to him.

"I'll set the system up triangulating his position using his cell number first. That might take a minute or two. While that's going we can run the license plate through the system. It'll only show up if his car has been reported though. I'll also set up a city wide search, matching his license plate to any security camera in Esthar. That one could take a while." While he spoke, he busied himself with typing in the numbers, his eyes locked on the screen. Silence settled in the room as they waited for answers.

"There's nothing on the license plate," Calder said, breaking the silence as he turned to look at another screen displaying a map of Esthar. A large blue circle appeared and started flashing, before the screen zoomed in on the Chimera district. "It seems his cell is switched on. It should only be a minute and we'll have his location."

Seifer stared at the screen intently. His whole body was tense with worry, but at least now they had something to go on; they'd find Squall. Next to him Rinoa brought up shaky hands in front of her mouth, pressing them together tightly.

For a minute none of them said anything; they all just watched the screen.

"It's on Seagill Road. Looks like it's number 34," Calder said, already busy feeding the output coordinates through another program. "Hold on," he continued, waiting for the result. "Skyway Inn."

Behind him, Seifer turned abruptly and stormed out the door, not waiting for the others to follow. Calder jumped out of his chair and set off after the blond in an effort to catch up.

"I'll take you there," Calder yelled in Seifer's direction, the blond already a fair distance down the hallway. When he didn't receive an answer, he turned to Rinoa and waited for her to catch up. Sending her a weak smile in apology of Seifer's behavior, he hoped she'd forgive him for his own thoughtless behavior earlier as well.

Expression determined as she met Calder's gaze, Rinoa briefly grabbed his hand in a tight grip. "Thank you," she said in a warm voice, before she turned to look at the blond storming ahead of them. Frowning at Seifer's rashness, she shook her head slightly. "He's always been such a hothead. Let's go before he leaves without us."

With Seifer already far down the hallway, Rinoa broke into a jog with Calder following her lead. It wasn't until they exited the building that they were finally close to catching up with the determined blond. When Seifer was almost at his pickup truck, Calder set off into a sprint, putting himself in Seifer's path.

"Move," Seifer said harshly, pushing past Calder.

Grabbing the blond's arm firmly, Calder hissed out his own command. "_In my car_," he demanded harshly. When the blond just shrugged off his hold and continued once more, Calder yelled out in frustration. "_Now_."

Surprised, Seifer stopped and turned to look at Calder. That was a first. He couldn't remember Calder having ever raised his voice to him.

"You're in no condition to drive," Calder said more gently, pleading with the blond to listen.

About to turn around without a second thought to Calder's words, Seifer remembered the GPS in Calder's car. They'd get to Squall faster that way, and on some level he knew Calder was right. From the moment the address had appeared on the computer screen, he'd rushed ahead without any regard for his surroundings. With a slight nod, he turned and headed in the direction of the man's car.

Pressing the button on his key fob, Calder watched as Seifer got into the back seat. When Rinoa approached the car, he walked to the front passenger seat and held open the door for her.

Casting Calder a surprised look at handling Seifer like that, Rinoa wordlessly complied and moved to sit in the car. It might not be such a bad thing after all to have the guy around. Things might turn ugly, and Calder seemed decidedly more levelheaded than either herself or Seifer.

In the back of the car, Seifer watched the exchange with a growing frown; they didn't have time for this. They needed to find Squall. Nothing else mattered. And if Squall was just hiding out in a hotel, ignoring Rinoa, then he'd throttle the guy and throw him into the nearest wall before leaving again. Worse things had happened.

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**A/N:** Glad to see people are still reading this :D Hope you liked the chapter! And thanks to Aera for her awesome editing!


	14. Turning Point

**~ Chapter Fourteen - Turning Point ~**

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**[Outside the Police Headquarters, Vana'diel Avenue, Sphinxara District, Tuesday, 21st of October, 10:17 am]**

Switching on the engine of his car, Calder pulled out of the parking lot in front of the police headquarters. Next to him Rinoa looked distant, a frown on her brow. In the rear view mirror, he could see Seifer's grim and vacant expression.

"What are you expecting to find?" he asked, frowning. It had sounded like the commander had simply gone missing, but Rinoa and Seifer's expressions told a different story.

"We can't be sure, but... he might need help."

Calder pushed down harder on the gas pedal. "It shouldn't take long."

For the rest of the drive no one said a word. Calder didn't know what to say or do. He'd never expected to meet anyone from Seifer's past after so long, let alone be thrown head first into a hunt for the SeeD Commander—the blond's ex-sparring partner and latest one night stand. But the silence in the car was oppressive, not allowing any room for questions.

When the driveway of the target hotel finally came into view, he shook off the many questions milling through his head and pulled over. In the back of the car, Seifer shifted in his seat, but before he could tell the blond to wait up, the man was out of the car, rushing towards the cheap looking building.

With Seifer disappearing inside the hotel, about to cause Hyne knows what kind of havoc, Rinoa quickly got out of the car as well, striding after the blond. Entering the small foyer crammed with worn down furniture and carpets, she hastened her steps. This was exactly the kind of place Squall would pick for himself.

"What do you mean you haven't seen anyone like that?" Seifer growled at the old woman behind the reception desk. It wasn't _hard_ to remember a guy like Squall. First of all, the man had a scar cut across his forehead, and second of all, he looked like a _fucking dream_ compared to the rest of the lowlifes in there. He narrowed his eyes, his knuckles growing white as he clenched his fists. Squall was close by, most likely in pain, and he couldn't do a damned thing about it.

Upon seeing the impatient blond scaring the living daylight out of the reception lady, Rinoa painted a disarming smile on her face and pushed the man aside.

"Please excuse my friend, Miss. He has a bit of a... temper problem, but he means well," she said, keeping her voice light.

Noticing that the woman was casting Seifer a wary look, she continued politely, "We're looking for our friend, Elios Vargha. He should be staying here. He was supposed to meet us some time ago, but it seems he must have overslept. Could you please point us in the direction of his room?"

The reception lady gave a reluctant nod, her eyes glancing once more at the now quietly seething blond before turning to her computer. "Let me check the register for you." After a moment of searching, a relieved look crossed her expression. "That would be room 326, on the third floor."

Having all the information he needed, Seifer scanned the foyer for the nearest stairwell. There was no way he was going to wait for an elevator. Setting off into a jog, he hurried to the third floor. As he ran up the stairs and down a narrow corridor, his eyes darted from door to door, his heart hammering in his chest. At the number "326" he stopped abruptly in place.

"Squall, open up!" he yelled, pounding his fists against the locked door. When no reply came, he cursed under his breath.

Running down the hallway, Rinoa stopped behind Seifer, her breath labored at having run two flights of stairs. "Would you _wait _for a second?" she huffed, before taking in the closed door separating them from the brunet. "Can't you bust the door open?"

Distancing himself from the door to gain momentum, Seifer threw himself against it full force. When it didn't budge, he tried again, repeating the move until the door finally gave way.

Inside, the small hotel room was cast in darkness, its heavy curtains closed and the air stale. The warm beam of light that fell in from the doorway revealed a bed, the sheets messy. Switching on the light, Seifer continued farther into the room.

A tatty armchair stood in the corner, some bags resting on top of it. Two gunblade cases were placed next to it, neatly aligned. He recognized one of the cases, knew the pattern of scratches on the worn black leather like the back of his hand. _Revolver_.

Heart beating faster, he took in the state of the rest of the room: a paper bag had fallen onto its side on top of a wooden dresser, revealing small pill jars inside. One jar lay abandoned on the floor.

Pushing open the only other door in the room, Seifer fumbled for the light switch. Cold light flooded the room, revealing white, tiled walls.

And Squall.

The brunet was slumped against the side of the bathtub, his head resting awkwardly against its edge, and his eyes wrenched shut in reaction to the sudden bright light.

In a split second Seifer was kneeling in front of Squall, his hand against the man's cheek. At the burning heat that met his touch, he grit his teeth.

"Squall," he demanded loudly, but only received a pained grimace in response. Gripping hold of Squall's arms tightly, he shook the man. But nothing happened—Squall's eyes remained shut, only a slight wince betraying the brunet had even felt the forceful grip.

A loud gasp left Rinoa as she halted in the bathroom doorway, her eyes falling to the limp form next to Seifer. Her world froze along with the breath in her lungs, before she registered the flushed color to Squall's skin and the rise and fall of his chest.

"Turn off the lights," Seifer bit out as he snuck an arm behind Squall's shoulders and another beneath the man's knees, hauling him up from the floor. Hot, damp skin and hair met his neck as the brunet's head tilted to rest against him. Tightening his grip, he clenched his jaws.

"Where do we take him? Odine's lab or a hospital?" he asked firmly, carrying the brunet into the other room.

Quickly switching off the light, Rinoa watched wordlessly as Seifer placed Squall on the bed. She had heard Seifer's question, but thoughts on what they should do failed to form. She could only see Squall's unmoving form as big tears rolled down her cheeks. _She_ had done this to him.

"Rinoa, get Odine on the phone, _now_," Seifer ordered as he disappeared into the bathroom again, whatever patience he'd mustered earlier long gone.

When Calder entered the dark room through the busted-in door, he found a crying Rinoa talking on her cell phone. He'd only lingered in the car for a couple of moments, but it had been long enough to seriously lag behind, the key he'd acquired to the commander's room sitting uselessly in his pocket.

Following Rinoa's gaze, his eyes landed on the unmoving form lying on the bed. The SeeD commander. He was much younger than Calder had imagined: their age. A slender brunet, shorter than himself. Nothing at all like what the stories had led him to believe. Returning his gaze to Rinoa, he watched the flow of unrestrained tears, the girl's cheeks already tinged red. The scene was unlike anything he'd imagined.

Inside the bathroom, Seifer was busy soaking some towels in cold water, his lips down-turned and his movements rushed by the need to be back by Squall's side. Turning off the tap, he hurried back into the bedroom and wrapped the fabric around Squall's wrists.

"... No, I'm okay. The seals and the amulet work fine... No. It's Squall... He's very sick..." Casting a brief glance at the brunet lying on the hotel bed, Rinoa felt new tears well up instantly at the sight. "He has a fever and isn't responding."

Frowning at what the doctor was saying, she moved to scan the dark room, her eyes finally settling on a brown bag. Walking to the dresser, she took the paper bag in hand and inspected the medication inside. "He didn't take any of it," she said softly. Listening intently to the man on the other end of the line, she fished out one of the plastic jars, carefully checking its labeling.

With a trembling hand she held out the medication to Seifer. "One pill every 12 hours. For when his fever gets too high," she repeated the doctor's words, her voice thick.

Taking the plastic container from Rinoa, Seifer got out a pill and fetched some water from the bathroom. Back by Squall's side, he lowered himself onto the edge of the bed and gently lifted Squall's head, placing a pillow beneath it.

"... I don't know when... No, we just got to him..." Rinoa said from behind him, continuing her conversation with the doctor.

"Come on, you gotta take this," he urged as he slipped the pill into Squall's mouth. Tilting the glass in his other hand, he poured some water in as well, hoping Squall's reflexes would kick in. When the brunet swallowed the pill without any problems, he allowed himself a deep breath.

"... I don't understand... But then why was he able to drive his car all the way here? ... He did, his car is parked right outside... Okay." Turning to face Seifer again, Rinoa issued Odine's next instruction. "Check his eyes."

Frowning, Seifer did as requested. Drawing up the brunet's eyelids, he froze into place at the sight that greeted him. Squall's eyes were shifting between gray-blue and a glowing silver, never remaining one color for long.

"It's his junction with Shiva—it's messed up," he said, transfixed.

Relaying the information to the doctor, Rinoa's eyes darkened, before she snapped sharply, "I don't care about your theories. I want to know if it's bad." Humming in understanding, the frown on her brow abated.

"He needs to unjunction now. The strain is too much."

Pushed into action by Rinoa's words, Seifer stood from the bed. "Calder," he ordered, not taking his eyes off Squall. "Hold him down."

Hesitating for only a moment, Calder hurried to the other side of the bed and pressed his hands against the commander's chest.

Leaning in over Squall, Seifer placed a hand at either side of Squall's head and aligned their eyes. "Relax, Squall," he said gently as he moved his thumb against the brunet's cheek. "Give her to me."

As he located the familiar bond between Guardian Force and master, he closed his eyes and focused all of his attention on drawing the icy goddess. Not only did he have to break the fluctuating junction, he also had to pry Shiva away from her favorite host.

The moment he managed to establish a magical connection, he opened his eyes to see tendrils of glowing magic materialize between them. Watching as the ethereal flow grew stronger, he increased his pull. Squall's eyes flew open in response, revealing intense silver irises regarding him in offense. Shiva seized firmer hold of the brunet's mind, not about to give Squall up.

Using everything he'd learned about magic at Garden, Seifer fought Shiva's resistance. He had never been good at communicating with Guardian Forces, so he tried his best to project the detrimental effect she was having on Squall. As she wavered in her resolve, the bond started to give way.

Breaking into a seizure, Squall convulsed violently beneath Seifer as the drawing process stretched on. The flowing magic flickered brighter than before, becoming almost blinding in its intensity. When the room was plunged back into darkness, the brunet went limp on the bed.

Instantly punished with a crippling headache, Seifer grasped at his forehead. Dry heaving, he rushed into the bathroom, the sound of retching soon following.

Taking a brief look at the man lying motionless beneath him, Calder pushed away from the bed. He wasn't sure what had just taken place, but he didn't like it one bit. Eyeing Rinoa carefully, he walked past her into the bathroom. He'd seen magic used a fair number of times, enough to know Seifer had drawn something. A something called "Shiva."

"What the hell just happened?" he demanded when his eyes fell on Seifer, the blond leaning over the sink.

Seifer didn't answer. Instead, he turned around and emptied his stomach into the toilet.

Expression stark, Calder narrowed his eyes. What he'd witnessed just moments before meant Seifer knew magic; it meant Seifer could _use_ magic. And with Seifer's apparent connection to the SeeD commander, he would hazard a guess Seifer was connected to SeeD as well. Wanting some answers, he opened his mouth to speak, but was immediately cut short.

"Not now," Seifer said firmly, needing to see Squall.

Frowning, Calder remained in place. He hated being pushed to the sidelines like this, hated seeing Seifer in pain.

"_Move_," Seifer ordered, not about to be slowed down by the man's misplaced concern.

Calder stared at the blond. "You'll tell me everything later?"

Gritting his teeth, Seifer yielded to a nod to get the man off his case. Immediately making it clear that this would be his _only_ concession, he pushed past Calder, but abruptly came to a halt inside the other room. On the bed, Rinoa was gently dabbing away beads of sweat clinging to Squall's flushed skin as she spoke with Odine on the phone. Beneath her touch, Squall lay entirely still. Feeling like an intruder, Seifer looked away, trying to ignore the jealousy the scene inspired. It was Rinoa's job to take care of Squall, not his.

"... So, that's all?" Rinoa asked, her movements stilling as her hand clenched around the damp towel in her grip. "Isn't there anything else we can do?" Face falling as the eccentric doctor replied, she slowly dropped the hand holding the cell phone to her lap.

Averting her gaze from Squall, Rinoa pushed up from the bed and turned to regard Seifer, the blond looking much worse for wear. "Are you feeling okay? Is Shiva giving you a hard time?"

Breaking Rinoa's gaze, Seifer ignored her questions and looked over to Squall instead. Apart from the brunet's damp hair and skin, it seemed as if the man was merely sleeping. "What did Odine say?"

Sighing at Seifer's single-minded behavior, Rinoa gave a defeated shrug. "... A lot of things," she answered faintly. "Junctioning Shiva at the moment of severing must have helped delaying... _this..._" she said softly, her gaze traveling to the brunet. "But the strain caused by breaking our bond... It takes a composed mind to control a junction. It must have backfired, for both of them... Shiva wouldn't harm Squall on purpose."

She rubbed at the tears staining her eyes and cheeks. "Why does he always need to put on a strong front? ... For Hyne's sake, he's probably been like this ever since—" Not finishing her sentence, her gaze dropped to the floor, her shoulders starting to shake with sobs.

"Will there be any permanent damage?" Seifer asked coldly, feeling little compassion for the girl when she was the one who had brought this upon Squall in the first place.

When Rinoa continued sobbing, making no sign of having heard the blond's question, Calder moved away from his position at the back of the room.

Eyes opening wide as she felt a steadying hand on her arm, Rinoa briefly allowed herself to draw comfort from Calder's touch. Reining in her tears, she realized she needed to be calm if she was going to be of any use. After a small smile sent Calder's way, she took a deep breath and met Seifer's gaze.

"...When we went to Odine for help, our main concern was—was keeping my powers dormant," she began, reluctant to explain how little they knew. "His field of expertise is sorceresses and para-magic. Not knights... What happens when they are cut off... Odine said he didn't know for sure. And now... with Shiva... We'll have to wait until Squall wakes up to be sure."

Turning his back to them, Seifer slammed his fist against the wall. Only a week ago Squall had been _fine_.

Standing perfectly still, Calder looked at Rinoa with wide eyes. "You're... a sorceress?"

About to ask Seifer whether he'd been like this after Ultimecia's death, Rinoa quickly swallowed the question. Cursing her big mouth and distracted state of mind, she knew it was too late to retract what she had said.

"Yes," she replied in a flat voice, keeping her eyes on the man who was regarding her in obvious shock, ready to pick up on any warning signs. She knew what Estharians thought of sorceresses, had experienced their way of dealing with one first hand.

"But... I thought they were extinct," Calder said with a frown. That's what he'd been taught at school. He'd seen pictures of Adel. Rinoa looked nothing like that vile creature. "_How_?"

His blood pressure skyrocketing at Calder's interference—at choosing this moment to start his questions, Seifer turned around. "_No_," he demanded. "_Not_. _Now_."

"But—" Calder's words died on his tongue. He'd never seen Seifer so angry before. Glancing over at Rinoa, he couldn't reconcile what he knew about sorceresses with the harmless looking girl in front of him. She looked more wary of him than the other way around. He relaxed his posture. He'd have to trust Seifer—wait for his answers until the blond had calmed down.

"Okay," he relented, breaking the strained silence. "It can wait."

At Calder's words, Rinoa let her hands fall back to her sides, withdrawing the reflexive touch to her magic inhibitors.

"So, where do we go from here?" Calder asked, looking between the two.

"We take him to your apartment," Seifer said, nodding in Rinoa's direction.

She shook her head at the suggestion. "That's not a good idea." The bond was freshly cut, the wound still bleeding, and she was back on a daily dosage of meds to suppress her powers and volatile emotions until she adapted. She was far too unstable and didn't trust herself around Squall one bit. Even if she didn't lose it the way she had before coming to Esthar, she could still try to take him back in a moment of weakness, while he was unconscious and unwilling. The thought alone was enough to force herself to refuse.

"_What_?" Seifer demanded hotly, his eyes narrowed. "_Why_? You weren't there to take care of him in the first place, and now you can't even be bothered to do _this_?"

At the accusation, Rinoa flinched. "How—How was I supposed to know? He couldn't leave the place quickly enough! He was gone in a split second... I _wanted_ to help. I told him to call. I was so worried... I—He doesn't _want_ my help!" Trembling, she looked at the blond with wide, red-rimmed eyes.

"You could have done _something_," Seifer let out in a near growl. He couldn't believe her gall. "What do you suggest then? We just leave him here?"

"Seifer," Calder reprimanded, unable to watch from the sidelines any longer. Walking over to stand behind Rinoa, he placed his hands on her shoulders and ignored the way Seifer's eyes narrowed further at the silent move of support.

Not having expected any sympathy from Calder after revealing she was a sorceress, Rinoa looked over her shoulder to meet the man's gaze. Her heart warmed to him, a stranger who could overlook everything he'd been told about sorceresses to come to her aid.

Shifting her gaze to study Seifer closely, she took in every little detail. Seifer's anger with her, along with the man's every action that day, was clearly sparked by a deep concern for Squall. It seemed he'd go to great lengths for the brunet. She had even heard him cry out Squall's name in distress, had seen the care with which he'd gathered the man in his arms.

The petty part of her protested against the idea that was starting to take root—the part of her that remembered the war and Seifer's role in it, the way the blond had stolen away her knight—but she smothered those thoughts. She needed to focus on what was best for Squall.

Steeling herself, she stepped away from the safety of Calder's support, the man's hold on her shoulders immediately releasing. "Thank you," she said softly, regarding him with a small smile, "...but... would you give me and Seifer a moment to talk in private?"

Watching Rinoa carefully, Calder considered the sense in leaving the two alone. He had been far from impressed with the blond's attitude so far. "You sure?"

Rinoa nodded, feeling more grounded now that she knew what to do.

Casting Seifer one last look of warning, Calder sighed. "I'll be in the lobby, then."

The moment the man started towards the door, Seifer crossed his arms and turned his gaze to Rinoa.

Waiting until Calder was out of earshot, Rinoa gathered her courage and faced the blond. "It can't be me... He won't accept my help... But more importantly... I—I just can't, no matter how badly I want to. When I broke our bond, I _cut_ him out of my life. I amputated a piece of me."

"He's right there. On that bed. But I can no longer feel him. He's... _gone_ and it's driving me crazy. I'm not sure I'll be able to control myself. The seals and inhibitors Odine placed on me... They're untested. A calculated gamble. I don't think being close to Squall for longer periods of time iswise. I just... I don't want to hurt him again."

Pouring all of her resolve into the request, she asked softly, "Would you please take care of him? Until he's better?"

Seifer huffed. What Rinoa was suggesting was absurd; she'd lost her mind. If anything, Squall would sooner be driven to jump out of a window than recover while staying at his place.

"No," he replied firmly, not pondering her suggestion any further.

"No?" Rinoa shot back, meeting the blond head on. "Just like that, after you nearly ran off on your own to find him, you say no?" She wouldn't allow him to downplay just how worked up he'd been, let alone claim he was not involved in this.

"You're out of your mind if you think he'd get better from staying at my place."

"And what exactly makes you think it's a good idea to have him stay with me?" Rinoa plowed on, needing Seifer to see things from her point of view. "I'm the reason he's like this in the first place. Being around me will only make things worse when we both need the distance." Not wanting to linger on that painful truth, she pressed on.

"I _can't_ send him back to Garden. He'll just walk all over them and refuse their help. You know how he is." That brought her to the core of her argument. Pausing briefly to emphasize her point, she looked Seifer square in the eyes. "You _know_ him—you know how to handle him. You can call his bluffs."

Loath to accept Rinoa's reasoning wasn't completely flawed, Seifer frowned. The girl had already proved exactly how lousyshe was at looking after Squall. He couldn't believe how easily he had jumped to the conclusion that _she _should be the one to take care of him. And Garden... He knew how Garden handled Squall. Or rather the other way around. Squall was an expert at tricking people into believing he was _fine_ when he really wasn't. He'd watched the performance first hand many times.

Rinoa was right: both of those options sucked.

Turning to look at Squall, he caught himself actually considering Rinoa's suggestion. It wasn't that he didn't want to take care of Squall. If anything, he was reluctant to hand Squall over to anyone else.

But... he just _couldn't_. He wasn't going to force Squall to stay with him. He wasn't going to be a constant reminder of everything that had happened between them.

As he glanced over at Squall's unmoving form, a memory he'd buried deep in the recesses of his mind came back to him, the two images overlapping. His thoughts grew disconnected as he remembered the scene—Squall lying on a metal stretcher, the man's head lolling in time with the careless moves of the two Galbadian soldiers carrying him away.

Gray tones and static blurred out the memory, replacing it with security footage of Squall coming to in a prison cell; his own cue to get to work. As Squall fell to the floor, the cell starting into motion, haughty amusement had filled him. The sickly sweet anticipation of seeing the SeeD pinned to the wall in the torture chamber had come next.

Snapping back into the present, he turned away from the bed.

"No," he repeated, the fight from earlier gone from his voice. "I put him through hell."

Watching as Seifer fell silent, the blond staring off into nothing, Rinoa didn't need to ask what the man was talking about. "Maybe," she said, her voice contemplative as she studied him. Squall had never really talked about it, but she knew all the same how deeply D-District had affected him. "... Maybe, but that's in the past. Squall is right here, and he needs help _now_."

Seifer's expression didn't change, his eyes still averted. She hadn't expected this, this _guilt_ eating away at the blond. Feeling an echoing twinge of her own guilty conscience, she moved to where Seifer was standing and lightly rested her hand on the blond's arm. "When you called... I said things I shouldn't have. You didn't want those things to happen; I know that now."

She'd done her own fair share of hurting Squall. Letting her hand fall back to her side, her eyes travelled to the unconscious brunet, taking in each slow rise and fall of his chest. "He knows too," she said simply. "And he needs your help. If you know what he's going through, what he needs, even by a little, then you should help him. He won't refuse if it's you."

Curbing the urge to snort at her words, Seifer stepped away from her. She knew _nothing_ and neither did Squall. He might not like what he'd done, but that didn't change the fact that it _had _happened.

The whole conversation was starting to annoy him. It was dragging out when it had been a pointless discussion from the start. So _what_ if Squall's options sucked? It didn't mean the man should stay with _him_, it just meant Squall was shit out of luck. He didn't have any special knowledge; he'd been out cold when Raijin and Fujin had looked after him.

And what had Rinoa claimed? _He won't refuse if it's you__. _That was downright bullshit. Squall did whatever the hell he wanted, always had. The only difference was that he would make Squall's life a living hell if the man was being stupid, and that wasn't really the best road to recovery.

When no reply came, the blond keeping at a distance, Rinoa's patience ran thin. She _knew_ the situation was far from ideal. She didn't _want_ to entrust Squall to Seifer, but this wasn't about what either of them wanted. This was about what Squall needed. And if what he needed happened to be someone equally pigheaded who would forcefully harass him into getting better, then she'd damn well get him that someone.

"I honestly don't care about your reasons why you won't do this. All I care about is him," she said, her voice dead-serious. "You owe Squall at least this much."

Seifer squared his jaw as he faced Rinoa. He _knew_ he owed Squall. Hell, he wouldn't even know where to begin if he were to ever make up for the amount of shit he'd put the man through. How the hell could he?

He grit his teeth, not liking what she was asking of him one bit. Even if she was starting to make just a tiny bit of sense.

He _knew_ he'd be able to see through Squall's bullshit. He also knew he'd be able to force the man into a speedy recovery. Squall's defiance and annoyance had never intimidated him. He didn't care what Squall would think of him; he only cared about Squall getting better. If the war hadn't happened, there'd be no doubt in his mind—he'd be the better option to take care of the man. But it _had_ happened, and there was nothing they could do to change that. Squall shouldn't have to deal with him. It didn't matter if Squall had forgiven him or not.

A frown grew on his brow.

_You didn't want those things to happen; I know that now._ _He knows too_.

He sighed. Maybe he was the one with the problem—the one who needed to start looking past the war. For Squall's sake.

Squall had always been strong and able to deal with anything that came his way. If Rinoa was wrong and Squall couldn't stand his presence, they could always take it from there and find somewhere else for Squall.

And maybe this was his chance at redemption—a way to start making up for some of the things he'd done... Maybe Rinoa was right.

Suddenly determined at the unexpected turn of events, Seifer held Rinoa's gaze. "Okay," he said with an air of conviction, as if it had been his idea all along. "Go tell Calder to come up and carry Squall's stuff, and have him settle any bills." He moved his eyes to the unconscious brunet. "I'll be down with Squall in a minute."

Relieved at having convinced the stubborn blond, Rinoa gave a small nod in understanding and started into action. She wasn't going to risk stalling and give Seifer the opportunity to change his mind.

Briskly, she walked around the room and collected all of Squall's belongings, leaving only the two heavy gunblade cases behind.

Coming to a halt in the doorway, her eyes trailed back to the two men. Forcing a smile on her face, her eyes brimming with tears, she faltered for the slightest of moments before turning around and leaving them alone.

Already, Seifer's resolve wavered. Taking care of Squall would be weird. The entire situation was a mess. He scowled at Squall, but all resentment left him when he noticed new beads of sweat forming on the man's brow. Walking closer, he let his eyes roam the brunet's unmoving form.

Shiva still hadn't settled in his mind, the proximity to Squall causing her to stir and reach for the man. Wondering what exactly it was about Squall's mind that had lured the ice goddess in so deeply, a faint smile tugged at his lips. Maybe Squall really was Shiva's lover after all.

"Let's get you out of here," he said, feeling the need to explain his actions to Squall even though the man was out cold. Lifting Squall up from the bed, he adjusted his hold so the man's face was resting against his neck. About to leave, he halted his steps when Calder entered the room.

"... I'll get the cases," Calder said, lingering by the doorway.

Seifer hummed in reply. "Thanks."

"No problem," Calder replied, getting Seifer's meaning. Breaking their gaze, he grabbed the gunblade cases and followed Seifer out of the room. As they made their way down to the foyer, he chanced a few glances at the unconscious man in Seifer's arm, but kept his questions to himself.

Outside, Seifer's eyes immediately traveled to where Rinoa was waiting by Calder's car. Her eyes didn't meet his; instead they were fixed on the man in his hold. His grasp on Squall tightened.

At the surreal sight of Squall looking so helpless, Rinoa's chest constricted. Squall had always remained unflinching through even the most severe of injuries, always quick to recover and return to the field. In the end she had managed to hurt Squall more that his job ever had.

"What should we do about his car?" Calder asked once they reached his own.

"I'll drive it," Seifer informed tersely as he opened a door to the back of Calder's car and made Squall comfortable on the leather seats. "You sit with him," he told Rinoa in a tone that brooked no argument, underlining his command with a jerk of his head.

Rinoa frowned but kept her mouth shut. She felt too drained to point out to Seifer that he was being an ass and didn't want to start an argument when she had already won the one that mattered anyway. Moving to sit in the backseat as ordered, she carefully guided Squall's head to rest in her lap.

"Do you have the keys?" Seifer asked, sticking his head into the car.

Fishing out the set of keys from her pocket, Rinoa handed them over. "You'll be all right?" she asked carefully.

"Yeah. Worry about him," Seifer dissuaded. Closing the door before she would hold them up any longer, he walked over to Squall's car.

Frowning at Seifer's retreating back, Calder forced himself into action. Inside the car, he stole a quick glance at Rinoa in the rear view mirror. The woman had her eyes glued on the commander, her expression strained. In front of them Seifer pulled out of the parking lot.

Tightening an arm around Squall's limp form, Rinoa brushed aside damp locks and dabbed at clammy skin with her sleeve. The streets whizzed by without either her or Calder saying a word, when an insistent ring tone shattered the silence in the car. Fumbling for her cell phone, she sighed as she spotted Laguna's name on the bright display.

She should have expected the man would call her again so soon. It wasn't long after Laguna had found out about Squall's leave in Esthar that the president had managed to wheedle a promise for dinner plans out of the reluctant brunet. Her inquiry over the phone earlier that morning, on whether Squall had already called him or stopped by, had clearly only spurred him on.

She hadn't meant to mislead Laguna, but there had been no other way to ask whether Squall had shown up at the palace without alarming him. The man would have raised all hell if he'd known the truth. The news she had to break to him now wasn't much better.

"Hello," she said, her voice faint.

"Rinoa," Laguna greeted fondly. "...I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time? It was just, ah, the dinner—I was hoping we could set a time."

Rinoa grimaced at the man's obvious eagerness. Whatever she told the man, she would only upset him.

"Perhaps, if you guys don't have any other plans, you could come by tonight? The chef, he—"

"I'm afraid... we won't be able to for a while," Rinoa interrupted before Laguna made her feel even more awful about what she had to say. "Look," she said softly, casting a glance in Calder's direction, "This isn't a good time to talk... I'll come by later today." She had to be careful with her words; Laguna and Squall's kinship was the _last_ thing she could afford to blurt out unintentionally.

"What's the matter? Is everything okay?" came the rushed reply, the president clearly alarmed.

Acutely aware of Calder listening in on every word, her voice took on a more impatient tone as she spoke again. "I—Everything will be fine, but... We need to discuss this in person. I'll be there shortly, okay?"

Not waiting for Laguna to reply, she quickly hung up. Hopefully she'd have more courage when seeing the president in person. With a sigh, she put away her cell phone and returned her attention to the brunet in her arms, willing him to snap out of it and wake up. But Squall didn't stir, his fever continuing to burn against her hand.

Not bothering with even trying to understand the phone call he'd just overheard, Calder kept his focus on the road and followed the black car ahead. Minutes passed in silence, before he realized where Seifer was leading them. He frowned, unable to understand what the hell was going on. If Rinoa was Squall's girlfriend, then why were they taking the commander to Seifer's?

Turning down Windurst Road, they soon reached Seifer's building. Pulling over, Calder tried to find some words of reassurance or encouragement. When none came to mind, he got out of the car instead. Seifer was already making his way over.

Realizing the moment where she would have to say goodbye was approaching fast, Rinoa stayed in the backseat for just a little longer, wanting to delay the inevitable. She kept her gaze on Squall's face, his features deceivingly unguarded in unconsciousness, and gently let her hand follow the line of his jaw before settling against a flushed cheek; a touch she knew he would have pulled away from if he'd been awake.

Noticing the expression on Rinoa's face, Seifer remained at a distance. He hadn't missed the way she'd looked at Squall so many times that day; her eyes full of love and worry. She deserved the room and time she needed to say goodbye.

Not knowing what to do with himself, a feeling he was quickly getting used to, Calder stood by idly, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other. The day was just one uncomfortable moment after the other.

Rinoa hesitated slightly, before she finally moved away from Squall's side and stepped out of the car. Not looking at the two men waiting around awkwardly, she averted her teary gaze to retrieve her notebook and pen again, hastily scribbling something on the paper.

"This is my phone number. Keep me posted, okay?" she said, her voice hoarse from crying.

Taking the note, Seifer glanced at it. "You can come up if you want," he said, feeling obliged to make the offer.

"That's okay. I think it's for the best if I don't." Following Seifer's moves as he lifted Squall out of the car, Rinoa let her gaze fall to the unconscious brunet one final time, a sharp pain twisting through her chest, before she steeled herself.

"Goodbye, Seifer. Calder."

With those words, she turned around and walked away.

* * *

**A/N: **This time we've got two amazing betas to thank: Aera and Sway! Thank you both so much!


	15. On Guard

**~ Chapter Fifteen - On Guard ~**

* * *

**[Outside Zayin House, Tiamat District, Tuesday, 21st of October, 11:57 am]**

Gunblade cases in hand and bags slung over his shoulders, Calder pushed the trunk of his car shut. As he followed Seifer across the street, his eyes landed on the unconscious man in the blond's arms. Beneath plain black jeans, worn combat boots dangled against the blond's side. Apart from that one sign, the brunet looked like any other civilian.

As he crossed the run-down lobby, his attention was drawn by the weight in his hands. If the man in Seifer's arms was really the SeeD commander, then he was carrying legendary gunblades. He'd heard tales of the commander's weapon—that it left blue streaks of light in its wake when the man fought his opponents. Would he get to see it?

Following closely behind Seifer, he stepped into the lift. Neither of them said anything as the lift ascended. The blond adjusted his hold on the brunet, before green eyes fell to regard the man's face.

Watching Seifer lost to thought as he studied the man in his arms, Calder noticed the odd symmetry of the scars crossing the bridges of their noses. He'd always thought Seifer's scar to be peculiar, but he had never managed to get the back story, not even when the blond had been heavily incapacitated by drugs or alcohol.

Stepping into the narrow hallway when the elevator came to a halt, Calder kicked a newspaper to the side and walked to the blond's apartment.

"The key's in my left pocket," Seifer said, maneuvering Squall in his arms so Calder would have better access.

Unlocking the door, Calder let the blond enter first. He placed the gunblade cases on the kitchen counter, his gaze lingering on the black leather marred with numerous scratches, before dumping the bags hanging off his shoulders to the floor. Looking over to where Seifer was lowering Squall to the couch, he raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't he be in bed?"

"Need to clean it first," Seifer grumbled as he propped Squall's head up on a small pillow. He pressed the back of his hand against Squall's cheeks. "Still burning up." Straightening, he made his way over to the kitchen.

Grabbing the jacket he'd slung over one of the gunblade cases, Calder walked to hang it at the back of the front door. Turning around, he watched idly as Seifer poured some water before gently coaxing the brunet into drinking it all. He'd never seen the blond act with such care.

"What happened to him?" he asked tentatively.

Seifer glanced up briefly from his task. "You heard Rinoa. They broke their bond."

Calder didn't know what that meant. He didn't know anything about knights or bonds.

"I have to go out," Seifer said upon seeing the frown on Calder's brow, wanting to break the man's train of thought. "I need you to look after him."

Not having expected this turn of events, Calder eyed the blond carefully. "Where are you going?"

"Shopping. I'll need more groceries so I can hole up in here for a while," Seifer said, his gaze dropping to look at Squall again. His fridge was almost empty and he needed to buy new sheets. There was no way he'd waste time at a laundromat when Squall needed to be comfortable in bed.

"I can do that."

"It'll be quicker if I do it," Seifer said, standing from the couch. He wouldn't be able to collect his thoughts long enough to make a shopping list. He'd just grab whatever came to mind at the shop.

"I'll phone you if anything changes," Calder reassured.

Seifer nodded before walking to the counter and grabbing his keys. "I'll be back soon."

Nodding as well, Calder watched the door close behind the blond.

Standing still, he eyed the man on the couch, able to make out the brunet's fast-paced breathing. Two drops of sweat merged and ran down the man's temple. He couldn't believe this was the man he'd heard so many stories about.

Walking to the sink, he grabbed a small hand towel from one of the cupboards and held it under the cold tap. He wrung the cloth out and sat down at the edge of the couch. Pressing the damp fabric to the brunet's forehead, he studied the man's effeminate features. He had to be younger than Seifer and himself. He looked barely eighteen with sparse stubble on his cheeks and smooth skin. His frame seemed too small to belong to a mercenary. The large scar that ran across the man's brow was the only thing that betrayed any sort of fighting as far as he could see. His eyes drifted to the cases on the counter.

The man on the couch couldn't be the commander. Garden would have known about the man's absence. They would have sent SeeDs to find him. Seifer and Rinoa had to be fooling him.

He frowned, pushing himself up from the couch. One quick look would be enough.

Carefully undoing the clasps on the more worn of the two cases, Calder's eyes darted to the man on the couch. It felt wrong to be doing this, but he needed _some_ kind of grasp of what was going on. He lifted the lid.

It was a Revolver. An outdated cylinder model, lower-to-mid range and two handed. A lion head emblem dangled from a short chain attached to the grip. He scrunched his brow. This didn't look like the weapon of a legend. Closing the case, he continued on to the next. The case held fewer scratches, and the clasps were harder to undo. Blue light spilled onto his fingers as he lifted the lid.

Staring at the blade in front of him, his heartbeat picked up. His eyes darted to the man on the couch. He'd never seen a blade like this. Translucent and azure with a soft glow, the barrel shaped like a winged lion, cast in shiny silver. How could the brunet even lift the thing? It looked heavier than any blade he'd ever seen.

_He used to be my sparring partner_.

Seifer had always been an exceptional gunblader. Why hadn't he questioned it more? Someone that good couldn't have been privately trained like he'd always told himself.

Closing the lid and returning the cases to where he'd originally put them, Calder turned his back to the blades. What the hell had he become part of?

He'd better get some answers when the blond returned.

Remaining in place, he thought back to everything that had happened that morning, from when he'd received Seifer's phone call until they'd brought the brunet back to Seifer's apartment. And then he recalled their conversation Sunday evening.

His mind kept going in circles. There was no way he could make any sense of it. Seifer fancied the SeeD commander. Seifer had been the SeeD commander's sparring partner. Seifer's ex was a sorceress.

Needing something to do, he cleared away Seifer's breakfast from where it had been left untouched on the counter. When the bowl and spoon had been washed and returned to their proper places, he looked around the room.

Deciding some sandwiches might help break the tension upon Seifer's return, he got out the ingredients. Halfway through buttering up the bread, a short buzz sounded. Then another one. He looked to the brunet on the couch, but the sound came from a different direction. Walking to the end of the counter, his eyes fell to the coat hanging behind Seifer's door. The commander's coat. It sounded like the buzz of a muted ring tone.

Frowning, he considered if he should answer as he walked over and took the phone in his hands, but the name that lit up on the display instantly had him think better of the idea. Putting away the phone, he shook his head and huffed. He tried to convince himself that Loire was a common surname and that he hadn't just almost answered a call from the President.

_What the hell had he gotten himself into?_

* * *

**[Zayin House, Tiamat District, Tuesday, 21st of October, 1:09 pm]**

It was moments like these Seifer hated: moments of waiting. Moments when he was forced into inertia because of the world around him. His posture was rigid as he waited for the elevator to slowly crawl to the ninth floor, jolting to a stop twice to accommodate other passengers. He'd left Squall in Calder's care less than an hour ago, but it felt like an eternity.

He'd checked his phone almost every other minute, but no one had called. He should have felt relaxed, but his nerves would hear none of it. At least once he returned he'd be able to stay at Squall's side for days if necessary.

When the elevator finally stopped at his floor, he squeezed his way through the still opening doors, his arms filled with plump grocery bags. Sidestepping the used bottles and other garbage that had been discarded on the floor, he rushed to his apartment. Fumbling with his keys, he struggled to get the right one without dropping anything.

Heading straight for the kitchen once inside, Seifer placed the shopping bags on the counter and looked in the direction of the couch. Squall was in exactly the same position as earlier.

Calder got up from where he'd been sitting at Seifer's work table at the other end of the room. "He's been like that since you left."

Seifer nodded. "Thanks." He started unloading the goods, only sparing the two sandwiches on the counter a brief glance before disregarding them. The sooner he did this, the sooner he could get Squall to bed.

"Need a hand with anything?" Calder asked, joining the blond in the kitchen.

Shaking his head, Seifer continued putting away the food, wishing he could just tell Calder to leave. He needed to be alone with Squall.

Calder watched the blond closely. The man looked preoccupied, but he couldn't stop himself from broaching the topic that had been on his mind all morning. "So... That's the great Squall Leonhart?"

Seifer's expression hardened. The phrasing of Calder's question stirred his temper, regardless of the answers he'd promised. Calder might not have meant any offense, but the way he'd used _great _and Squall's name in one sentence, with a slight hint of underlying disbelief... Seifer's hands clenched.

"I need to know what is going on here, what I've gotten involved in."

Seifer wordlessly put away some more food before stopping in place. He sighed. "I know." He turned around to face Calder. "But first, I have to take care of him," he added, nodding in Squall's direction.

"I can help."

"No." It was already bad enough he'd involved Calder as much as he had. "I need to be alone with him."

Calder frowned. "How come he's staying here?"

Seifer looked away, before grabbing some cans from one of the shopping bags. "It's the best option."

"If he's the SeeD Commander, then why not Garden?" Calder asked, his eyes involuntarily traveling to the gunblade case that held the azure blade.

"He's a stubborn fuck," Seifer said, looking at the unconscious brunet. "Garden doesn't know how to handle him."

Calder watched the blond carefully. "But you do?"

"I know him better than most." Even if years had separated them, he still knew how Squall worked. They'd spent so many hours together that they knew each other's ticks and tricks, every little habit and shortcoming.

Letting out a huff, Calder shook his head. "This is so surreal."

"I spent most of my time as a teenager pestering the guy," the blond admitted, a slight upwards curve appearing on his lips.

"Somehow that's easier to imagine," Calder commented, smiling as well. So this was why Seifer had never talked about his youth much. He'd never suspected the man capable of keeping such a huge secret. The blond bragging about it left and right seemed much more likely.

"Let me deal with him," Seifer said slowly. "And then come over for a drink later."

Considering Seifer's words, it was a moment before Calder relented. He supposed it would be easier over a drink or two, and Seifer was right, for now he was imposing. "All right. But even if he wakes up, I'm not letting you out of this."

Seifer chuckled softly at Calder's mock threat.

"And you owe me. _Big time_."

Nodding, Seifer smiled. "Got it."

"You better."

At the return of a relaxed atmosphere between them, Calder took a deep breath before walking over to his coat. As he shrugged it on, his eyes traveled to the brunet who still hadn't moved whatsoever.

"Call me if you need anything," he said as he walked over to grab one of the sandwiches he'd made earlier. "If I haven't heard from you by ten, bet your ass I'll be here."

Huffing, Seifer met Calder's gaze. "Make sure Nolan stays away."

"I'll think of something," Calder said even though he knew he'd have a hard time following up. He'd never been a great liar, and banning Nolan from Seifer's apartment was a surefire way of having the boy show up within the hour. He'd have to find some other excuse. Walking to the door, he rested his hand on the door knob. "I'll see you later," he said, taking one last look at Seifer as he opened the door.

"See you," Seifer repeated from behind Calder, watching as the man left. When the door closed, he returned his attention to Squall.

What a fucking mess.

He'd never looked after anyone before and now he had an unconscious Squall on his hands. He didn't know how to handle something like that; they'd have to take it one step at a time. At least Squall was here now, the frenzied search [for the man] over. He'd make sure Squall would be okay and get the man back on his feet as soon as possible. First, he needed to get the brunet comfortable in bed.

Walking into his bedroom with the last of the shopping, he dumped the bag on the rumpled bed. It still hadn't been cleaned since the night he'd spent with Squall, and without any time to take care of laundry, he'd bought clean sheets instead. Opening the window to let in some fresh air, he took a deep breath as it cut through the stale smell of the room.

Picking up the lube that had been left out in plain sight, he tossed it into the bedside drawer, before ridding the bed of the stained sheets. Dumping them in to the laundry basket, he slammed the lid shut.

When the bed was freshly made, he stared at it with crossed arms. What had happened was in the past. He had to let it go.

Letting out a huff, he returned to the living room. For a whole minute he remained in place before carefully hoisting Squall up into his arms. Bringing the man into the bedroom, he slowly lowered the brunet to the bed.

The man's forehead was still warm to the touch, and he gave no reaction at the contact. Seifer could feel moisture clinging to Squall's skin, just as he'd felt the dampness of his clothes when he'd carried the man. And Squall reeked.

The clothes would have to go. So would the smell. Squall was going to kill him for this.

Drawing up the white hem of Squall's shirt, Seifer slowly trailed the fabric upwards, his eyes drawn to the sight of firm abs and pecs before dipping down to the brunet's navel and the dark trail of curls leading to low cut jeans. His eyes jumped up to look at Squall's face, but the man's eyes remained shut. He hadn't moved an inch.

He'd hoped he would get through it without any straying thoughts, but he'd already been studying Squall far too closely. His gaze had lingered, just as he couldn't help the soft pressure of his fingers along Squall's skin as he removed the man's long sleeved shirt.

Bringing his hands lower, he unbuckled Squall's belt. He popped open the button of Squall's trousers next, but still no reaction.

Tugging at the zipper, Seifer stilled his movements. This was the point of no return. Any further and Squall definite _would_ kill him if the man came to. And it didn't feel right to expose Squall like this—not when he knew how revolted Squall would be at the mere thought of Seifer ever seeing him naked again.

Curbing his thoughts, he undid the zipper the rest of the way and pulled down Squall's pants. He just needed to get it done. Unlacing the heavy combat boots, he let them drop to the floor along with the dark jeans, but as soon as they did, his eyes betrayed him. He catalogued every single dip, curve and hard edge to the man before him.

Stirring from his frozen pose, he got a bucket of warm water and some towels from the bathroom. Dipping one of the towels in the water and running it along Squall's chest, he watched as small beads of water formed trails against the man's skin and pooled between muscles. Drying the water off again, he continued the process until Squall's face and upper body were clean, careful to keep his thoughts empty. He halted for a moment before hooking his fingers underneath the waistband of Squall's boxers, the tight fabric not hiding much. Removing them, he raised an eyebrow at the bizarreness of what he was about to do. Washing down the rest of Squall quickly, he got the awkward task over with in record time.

Walking over to his dresser, he rifled through the drawers, searching for an old pair of boxers. They'd always been too tight and uncomfortable, making him a general pest to be around whenever he wore them. They weren't nearly as large as the ones he'd found Squall wearing upon his return to the apartment the previous Thursday. They'd suit the brunet perfectly.

Grabbing his favorite comfy shirt, the thing worn and the print faded, he returned to Squall's side and dressed the man. He had to grin when he was proved right; the pair of ball crushers fit perfectly. Satisfied he had done a decent job, he got Squall under the duvet and placed a soft pillow under brown locks.

He sat down at the edge of the bed. He'd never expected to be giving the brunet sponge baths, and in spite of getting to see Squall naked, he'd hated every moment of it. Squall had better wake up soon. Seeing the brunet this incapacitated was wrong on multiple levels, and it wasn't like he could take care of someone unconscious long term—no matter what he'd made plans for. Odine had to think Squall would come to soon. Otherwise the doctor would have ordered them to take Squall to a hospital or the lab.

Standing from the bed, he returned to the living room. Retrieving Squall's bags and gunblades, he placed them next to the window in the bedroom, in view of the bed. He leaned against the wall. Maybe a tiny part of him didn't look forward to Squall regaining consciousness, the part that didn't want to see Squall's dissatisfaction and contempt at having to stay with him.

He'd spent the better part of the day furious at Rinoa and worried about Squall, but now that Squall was safely within his reach, he felt angry at the brunet as well. What the hell had Squall been thinking, staying on his own after breaking the bond? The man must have expected there to be _some_ risks; he couldn't have been as naive as to think he'd be perfectly fine. Seifer had told Squall just that Thursday how he'd been out of it for a _month_ after his own bond had been torn. If only he'd_ known_, then he could have bullied Squall into staying with him. _Somehow_. He could have kept an eye on the man.

_It doesn't matter. He's here. He'll be fine._

As he watched the slow rise and fall of Squall's chest, he wondered how things had been for himself when he'd been out of it after the war. He had no memories of it, and Fujin and Raijin had never told him. Hyne, if he had to look after Squall for a month, he'd probably end up finishing the scrawny bugger off himself. Arc would have his ass if he didn't come in to work for that long, and he was close to broke as it was; he didn't even dare think of the amount of ass kissing he'd have to do to make it through if Squall remained stubbornly oblivious for long. Hell, the Ice Prince was probably enjoying it—a trip away from the world, from people.

In the end, none of it mattered. They'd have to take it day by day, and however reluctant he was to do so, Seifer had to put his faith in Odine and the pills. Maybe the fact that the bond had been broken willingly made a difference.

Stepping closer to the bed, he placed the back of his hand against Squall's forehead, then his cheek. He sighed. He'd let Squall rest for now and return in a while to check on him again. For the time being, he should get some work done on his designs. Closing the door quietly, he ignored the urge to turn right back around. He'd have to wait.

* * *

**[Seifer Almasy's Apartment, Zayin House, Tuesday, 21st of October, 7:04 pm]**

Sitting at his work desk, Seifer glared at the paper in front of him. According to the protractor, he'd made a mistake along the way. The angle of the curved blades protruding from the blaster edge were too small to allow them to cut into a target easily. Releasing a low grumble, he resisted the urge to crumble up the piece of paper. He'd spent over two hours on the damned thing and couldn't just throw it away. His stomach joined in on the grumbling. Glancing at the time on his cell, he realized it was dinner time. He hadn't had more than a mouthful of cereal that day.

Standing up from his position by the work desk, he looked in the direction of the bedroom. He'd checked on Squall a couple of times already, but so far there hadn't been any change. He'd have to get _some_ kind of sustenance into the guy. And the pills. Sighing at the prospect, dreading the mess he was bound to make, he walked to the bedroom door. He'd check on the guy one more time before getting the pills and food.

Squall still hadn't moved from his earlier position. Apart from the slight rise and fall of his chest beneath the duvet, there was no sign that the man was even alive.

The bed dipped slightly as Seifer sat down at the edge. Checking the brunet's temperature, he couldn't help but grimace at the heat still burning pale skin. His hands stilled in place. A twitch—Squall's eyebrows had twitched. It had been almost imperceptible, but the accompanying change in Squall's breathing told him he hadn't just imagined it.

Another move, this time under the duvet.

"Squall," Seifer said in a low voice as he placed his hand on Squall's arm and shook it slightly.

Immediately, Squall's body went rigid and the man's eyes flew open to stare at the ceiling with a wide-eyed gaze, his breathing coming in hard and fast.

It was a few seconds before Seifer reacted. Keeping his hand in place, still resting it on Squall's arm, he spoke softly. "Take it easy," he said, keeping his voice steady. "You're all right." He watched the brunet cautiously. "You'll be all right."

Squall snapped his head in his direction. There was no recognition in the man's gaze, only a blankness that made chills run down Seifer's back. He didn't have a second to ponder what was happening when Squall launched out of the bed and backed away wildly towards the opposite side of the room. A loud thud filled the room when Squall impacted against the wall behind him. Gray-blue eyes darted around the room, until they finally fell upon Seifer again. The brunet looked almost blind as he stared in his direction, as if the man wasn't fully rooted in reality.

Standing slowly from the bed, Seifer raised his hands to show that he wasn't a threat, approaching the man much as he would a wild creature. "Easy," he said, dragging out the word.

Squall raised a hand to grasp at his forehead, his eyebrows scrunching up as if in pain. The brunet's other hand found the wall behind him in a steadying move. The man's breaths were ragged, still coming in far too rapidly.

Having seen enough, Seifer stilled his mind and slowed his breathing, before reaching out for the neglected bond in his mind for a second time that day. He heard a faint growl at the back of his mind as he coaxed Bahamut into junction, his muscles tensing with the fierce creature's strength.

Without wasting another moment, he cast Sleep on the brunet. As soon as the spell landed, he shunned the winged beast again, forcing him to the back of his mind. As blinding pain burst behind his eyes, he stumbled a step backwards, his eyes shutting in reflex. He hated using magic now.

When his vision returned, his eyes landed on Squall. The brunet was slumped against the wall at the other side of the room inelegantly, the man tense yet unmoving. He was still very much awake, but it looked like he was losing the fight. Squall's eyes were still directed at him, but they weren't as wide as before. There was a blink. Then another one.

Raising his hands once more, hoping Squall would still recognize the human gesture, Seifer closed the distance between them in slow, measured steps. As he lowered himself to kneel on the floor in front of the brunet, he kept his gaze unwavering. He placed a hand firmly against Squall's upper arm. When Squall's frown abated and gray-blue eyes slowly lost their wild glint, he took a deep breath.

Hooking his hands under the brunet's arms, he gently rose into a standing position and lifted Squall up with him. Taking all of the man's weight, feeling the brunet slump against him, he shuffled them back to the bed before laying Squall back down on the soft mattress. He gave the man a small smile when he saw gray-blue eyes still tracking his movements, and covered Squall with the duvet.

"Relax," he said softly, as he lowered himself to sit at the edge of the bed.

Watching as Squall's eyelids grew heavier and heavier, he didn't know what to make of what had just happened. Had he reacted like that after his bond with Ultimecia had been broken? He would _kill_ Odine and Rinoa if it was permanent. He clenched his jaw as his eyes stayed locked with Squall's. He wanted to shake the man, to _command _him to snap out of it and recognize him.

Forcing the thought aside, he told himself to stay calm.

When gray-blue eyes fell shut, the man looking relaxed and undisturbed, Seifer waited in the quiet of the room, only leaving when he was absolutely certain Squall had fallen back to sleep.

As he stood in the other room, he wasn't sure what to do. Phoning Rinoa would be pointless; she wouldn't be any help, and she'd just freak out. He didn't have Odine's number, and even if he did, the doctor had already offered his insight. If Squall was going to return to normal, he would need rest, time for his mind to heal.

Seifer glanced back in the direction of the doorway leading to the bedroom. He'd have to keep Squall sedated for a little while longer for the guy to get better without injuring himself, which meant he needed sedatives unless he wanted to walk around with a permanent headache from using magic. He got out his cell.

"Hey," Calder greeted after the second ring.

"I need you to come over," Seifer said, not wasting any time on greetings.

"What happened?"

"Just come over and bring some sedatives. I'll explain when you get here."

Calder hesitated. "Okay."

Seifer hung up. There wasn't anything else to say. As soon as Calder got there, he'd try and get some pills, food, and water in Squall. Hopefully the Sleep spell would still be somewhat in effect by then, but there wasn't any way to predict that with how resilient Squall was to spells and how crappy his own magic had become.

As he waited for Calder to turn up, Seifer ate the sandwich Calder had made him earlier. His appetite was still nonexistent, but he needed the energy. Not paying attention to what he was doing, mostly staring into space, he started when a knock sounded at his door.

Making it to the door in a couple of seconds, he pushed it open wide.

"I got the pills," Calder said, holding out a small package for Seifer.

Taking the box from Calder's hand, Seifer nodded and walked over to the kitchen. He got out a glass and filled it with water.

"So, what's up?" Calder asked from behind him.

Seifer didn't answer as he looked through the medicine Odine had prescribed Squall, getting out the right number of pills from each small container. With a cup of yogurt in one hand and the glass of water and pills in the other, he spared Calder a brief glance. "Wait here," he said, turning around and heading towards the bedroom. "I'll be back in a minute."

Inside the bedroom, he was relieved to find Squall still asleep. As he placed the things he'd brought with him on the bedside table, he kept an eye out for the slightest movement, ready to react if Squall had another abrupt awakening. When it didn't come, he gently sat down at the edge of the bed, his hands held out, ready to grab onto Squall at any sudden movement. He didn't want Squall to back up into a wall and get hurt a second time around.

"Squall," he said, hoping Squall would still be mostly out of it. Just a little bit of consciousness would do.

A sound of displeasure left Squall as the man's eyebrows furrowed. The man looked like he was in pain.

"Come on, Squall, you gotta wake up," Seifer said as he leaned in over Squall. Placing a hand on Squall's right shoulder, he gently shook it.

This time hazy gray-blues slowly opened to look at him. They still weren't rooted in reality. "You have to sit up," Seifer tried, hoping Squall could understand what he was saying.

Squall's eyebrows scrunched up even further, and the man moved a hand to rub at his right temple.

"I've got some pills for that," Seifer said, nodding at where Squall's hand was kneading. He had a good inkling he wasn't the only one with a headache. "But you need to sit up first, all right?" He moved back a bit to give the brunet some space, but instead of moving into a sitting position Squall brought his hands up to cover his ears and turned to lie on his side, leaving his back to Seifer.

Seifer frowned. Sound was causing Squall pain.

Staying silent, he placed a couple of pillows against the wall. With a soft back rest in place, he grabbed the brunet and dragged him into a sitting position. Slowly letting go, unsure if Squall would be able to stay upright on his own, he watched as the brunet slumped against the pillows. The position was slightly precarious for a moment before Squall settled against the pillows properly.

Squall's eyes hadn't moved to look at him. Instead they were fixed on the wall at the opposite end of the bedroom. The Sleep spell had to be in effect to cause such a change from earlier, but the hollow look to Squall's eyes hadn't changed. It made Seifer's skin crawl. He took hold of the glass of water, needing to get this done as soon as possible.

As he brought the water to Squall's lips, he tilted the glass slowly and watched the water disappear little by little. Grabbing one of the pills, he placed it in Squall's mouth, pushing it in between pale lips. When the pill was swallowed along with a sip of water, he repeated the process until all the medicine and sedatives were gone.

Putting the glass back on the bedside table, he brought a spoonful of yogurt to Squall's lips. The process of spoon feeding someone was much slower than he would ever have imagined—much slower than he'd ever thought himself patient enough to sit through—but it felt good to finally get some sustenance in Squall.

For a couple of minutes he just sat there watching. It wouldn't be long before the sedatives would set in, and once they did, Squall would be out for the night. Even if Squall didn't recognize him, there was still some comfort in seeing the man awake and responding to the world around him, if only on the most basic of levels.

As he stood up again and moved Squall back into a sleeping position, he made the man as comfortable as possible. With a soft pillow placed back under Squall's head, he watched as Squall's eyes closed slowly once more. It was strange standing there, watching over a man he'd thought he'd never see again only the day before, but even stranger was the slow realization that it wasn't a desire to make up for the past that had made him accept the responsibility. He had _wanted_ to help and would do anything to make sure Squall got better.

Reluctant to ponder the sentiment any further, he walked over to the window and opened it slightly in order to let in a light breeze. Turning off the light, he left the room and closed the door softly behind him.

Back in the living room, his eyes moved to where Calder waited on the couch, the man's eyes immediately meeting his gaze. Walking over to the couch, Seifer relaxed into it, feeling exhausted after a long day filled with one unpleasant surprise after another. Arching his head backwards, he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.

The seconds ticked by slowly as Calder watched the blond. He wasn't sure if he could broach the questions that had been occupying his mind all afternoon. The blond looked so beat. He knew the situation was taking its toll on Seifer.

"He came to earlier," Seifer said, breaking the silence.

Calder raised an eyebrow. "That's good, right?" he asked, but without much enthusiasm—he could read Seifer well enough to know there hadn't been a big change in the commander's condition.

"He wasn't _there_," Seifer explained with a distant gaze. "Just a shell. Pure reaction to his environment, nothing else." After a pause, he continued, "He's in pain. Sounds hurt him." His left hand clenched where it was resting on the couch. "I've given him sedatives so he can stay out of it for a while longer."

He kept his gaze straight ahead. "He was my sparring partner for as long as I can remember."

Calder forced a small smile onto his lips. "I can't believe you didn't tell me you used to spar with the Seed Commander."

"Who he is doesn't matter," Seifer said in a tired voice.

Calder held back a sigh. "Maybe not, but who you are matters to me," he said, wanting to defend his words. "There's a lot you haven't told me."

As they both considered Calder's words, silence filled the room. Seifer had never imagined telling Calder anything about his past apart from the few inconsequential things he had already shared with the man. He still didn't want to tell the man anything, but knew it was too late to back out now. "I know," he resigned.

"Why?" Calder asked when no further words followed.

"I have my reasons."

The silence dragged on as Calder waited for the blond to continue.

"I was a cadet at Balamb Garden. I wanted to be a SeeD. Things changed," Seifer finally offered. He knew outright denying Calder an answer would cause a rift in their friendship.

It was what Calder had already suspected, but hearing Seifer say it made him consider the implications more fully. "What changed?"

Seifer frowned. He didn't need any reminders of that time. "I screwed up," he said, avoiding any details. "So I came here."

It sounded so simple when Seifer said it. Like it had been easy for the blond. Calder knew better than to assume as much. There had to be a reason why Seifer hadn't told him about the past, and he was certain it wasn't as uncomplicated as Seifer made it out to be. He knew not making SeeD would have taken Seifer's self-esteem down a notch, but that didn't explain the look in Seifer's eyes. Maybe some things were better left alone. For now.

"Do you still use magic?" he asked instead. The incident at the hotel had replayed in his mind countless times already. The only time he had seen humans use magic was during the clean-up effort after the Lunar Cry while he had worked side by side with SeeDs. When he'd learned about magic in his line of work, he'd only been taught which items to use to defend himself against it. None of his colleagues knew how to use magic either.

"Sometimes," Seifer replied. After the war he had only used magic sparsely. His spells hadn't been nearly as strong as before, and he was punished with headaches and nausea whenever he used them. Instead, he'd taken to bringing potions, antidotes, and the likes with him whenever there was a chance of encountering monsters.

"So you have one of those magical beings?" Calder said, remembering what little he'd been told about magic—that it was a connection to a magical entity that allowed one to cast spells.

"I have a couple," Seifer admitted. He huffed as Calder's eyes went wide. "Shiva is a Guardian Force."

"The thing you drew from him?" Calder asked as he tilted his head in the direction of the bedroom.

Seifer nodded. His eyes became distant as he remembered Shiva fighting Ultimecia. The guardian force had been breathtaking, her skin a pale glowing white, her eyes a deep blue as she transformed the world around her to ice. "She's beautiful. An ice goddess."

Calder had a hard time imagining what a magical being would look like, let alone how you could be connected to one. "How does it work?" The stories he'd heard about SeeDs selling their souls, trading away their personality and memories, for magical power had to be wrong.

"They just become part of you. If you can persuade one to join you," Seifer said, a shade of smugness curving his lips upwards.

"You'll have to show me," Calder insisted. He'd never seen such a being.

"Maybe," Seifer agreed halfheartedly after a second's pause. He almost never got Bahamut out to play anymore and knew he'd be punished for it if he did. Showing Calder wasn't an option even if he wished he could show the man the impressive creature. He loved watching Bahamut's wings unfold as the creature hovered in the air next to him, preparing to strike. But he didn't want anyone to see his weakness. Summoning hurt more than spells, and it was hard to fight when it felt like someone was sticking a giant needle into your brain, scrambling it around.

"Maybe?" Calder returned, somewhat incredulous. "I know you can hardly summon one of them in the middle of Esthar, but as soon as he—" there was another nod in the direction of the bedroom, "as soon as he's better, the two of us will have to take a trip out during the weekend. You can't get out of this one. You _have_ to show me."

"Maybe you can get Squall to show you Shiva," Seifer said with a quirk to his lips as he imagined Squall's displeasure at having to humor Calder with showing the man his icy lover. Back at Garden Squall had never had patience for anyone expressing awe at such things.

"Was that a joke?" Calder asked after a couple of seconds, not really sure what to make out of the secretive smile on Seifer's lips.

"Squall doesn't play well with others," Seifer commented, feeling the heavy load on his shoulders lighten. Apparently thinking about Squall being his old annoying self helped ease his mood. There was another upwards pull at the corner of his lips as he considered how Squall and Calder would get along if they ever met; he couldn't see anything other than gray-blue eyes narrowing in scrutiny as they regarded the taller brunet.

Seeing the deep fondness in Seifer's eyes, Calder wasn't surprised, not after everything he'd witnessed the last couple of days. He couldn't help but wonder if things went the other way as well, if the SeeD commander shared this fondness for his ex-sparring partner. There had to be something there for the man to sleep with the blond, Avalanche or not. But where did that leave Rinoa?

Upon remembering the woman, his thoughts were effectively distracted. He still had so much trouble believing Rinoa was a sorceress. She had seemed kind, delicate—nothing like the pictures he'd seen of Adel.

"Is Rinoa really a sorceress?" he asked, meeting Seifer's gaze.

Pulled from his thoughts, Seifer nodded. "She wouldn't hurt a fly though."

A frown settled on Calder's brow. The truths he'd been told that day were too far-reaching for him to even hope to understand. He didn't know what being a sorceress entailed, and now he had to wonder how many more there were out there like Rinoa, walking around unseen by the public.

"But she doesn't look like one."

"They aren't all freaks like Adel."

"_All_?" Calder asked, unsure he'd heard that right. "You know more?"

"Knew," Seifer corrected.

Calder shook his head. He didn't know how much more he could take. "So there are lots of them?"

Seifer shrugged. "Hell if I know."

"What does being a sorceress entail?"

Leaning farther back in the couch, Seifer tried to relax. "Special powers—their own magic."

Calder nodded. That was the extent of his knowledge on the subject.

"What's a 'knight'?" he asked, remembering the term Rinoa had used to refer to Squall earlier that day.

With all the questions Calder was asking, Seifer should have seen this one coming, but it still caused him to tense up. "Someone that will do anything for his sorceress," he said after a brief pause, the answer coming to him easily.

"And a 'bond'?" Calder asked.

Sighing, Seifer considered how to explain it. At first it had simply been a way of communicating with his mistress. Later, he had no longer been sure of what exactly it had involved; he had no longer felt like a separate entity from Ultimecia.

"A connection between sorceress and knight," he said, bringing a hand up to massage at the back of his neck. "It allows them to share thoughts and emotions."

"And that's what Squall and Rinoa had?"

Seifer lowered his gaze to the floor. "It's how Rinoa knew we slept together."

There was a moment's pause as Calder considered Seifer's words. The full extent of the situation was finally becoming apparent to him. Rinoa had broken the bond with Squall after what had happened between the two men and Squall's current condition was the consequence. It was beginning to make sense why no one else had been involved. It had been a private matter. Something else occurred to him.

"Why did Rinoa ask me to leave? At the hotel," he asked, that part of the puzzle still eluding him. He almost regretted asking his question at the drawn expression it elicited on the blond's face. Neither of them said anything for long minutes. Just when Calder was about to give up, the blond ran a hand through his hair—a nervous move he knew all too well.

"...I know what he's going through."

Calder frowned. "You've known other knights?"

"No," Seifer said curtly before looking away, obscuring his expression from view.

Having a sinking feeling he was about to learn another truth about the blond's past, Calder steeled himself. "You used to be a knight?" he asked lowly.

The ensuing silence was all the admission he needed.

Seifer had been a knight.

That was why Rinoa had asked for privacy. She had known and hadn't wanted to expose Seifer. Calder's mind went blank.

"This is a lot to take in."

"...I wanted to forget," Seifer said after a long silence. "And I wanted a new start," he added, leaning forwards in his seat. "That's why I never told you." Without another word of explanation, he got up from the couch and headed to the kitchen counter. He didn't want to tell Calder more than that—he had already said much more than he'd intended to. He got out two tumblers and poured them some whiskey. The alcohol was way overdue.

At the thought that occurred to him, Calder's brow knitted into a frown. "Were you Rinoa's knight, too?" It was the only logical conclusion he could reach.

"... She wasn't a sorceress back then," Seifer relented.

Calder's frown deepened. He'd always assumed sorceresses were born that way. "Who was your sorceress then?"

Seifer locked his eyes on the counter. He couldn't tell Calder. Every part of him was opposed to it. If he told him, the man would never look at him the same. They'd never be able to go back.

"It doesn't matter," he said lowly, even though he knew it did. "It's in the past. I need it to stay that way," he added, raising his eyes to meet Calder's gaze.

"But you only ever told me about Fujin and Rinoa," Calder plowed on. "Don't tell me Fujin is a sorceress too?" he asked, half expecting Seifer to just come out and tell him it was all one big joke.

"She isn't," Seifer growled.

"Then who?" Calder repeated. "I mean, from the sound of it, it's an intimate thing and those are the only two—" Calder curbed his words as his eyes fell to Seifer's clenched fists.

_I wanted to forget._

Calder took a deep breath and collected his thoughts. Seifer didn't want to tell him and most likely wouldn't, no matter how hard he pushed. Did it matter who she'd been? It couldn't have been Adel. Seifer hadn't been born yet when she'd been in control. And the blond had admitted to knowing other sorceresses.

"Why does it matter if I know?"

"Push more and you're leaving," Seifer said sternly.

Calder lowered his gaze. Maybe he could figure out things on his own.

"You don't have to tell me," he said as he leaned back in the couch, sighing.

Watching Calder carefully, Seifer took a sip of his whiskey. It seemed the man had caught on after all. Grabbing the glasses, he walked over and joined the man on the couch.

Taking the offered glass from Seifer's hold, Calder let his eyes travel the blond. "So, a Garden cadet," he commented, wanting to return to a safer topic. "What was it like?"

Allowing himself to think back to his time there before the war, Seifer fell silent. He'd loved Garden. He could've done without some of the more boring classes, but the focus on honing your skills in combat and executing missions had given him drive from an early age; a drive that he'd only recently learned to direct onto something else.

"Good," he said honestly. "But not for the weak." He met Calder's gaze. "You're forced to push yourself constantly. In the morning you have theoretical classes; in the afternoon, physical ones. In the evening you're expected to continue your training on your own or hit the books. Same goes for the weekends. Never a moment off."

"You think Nolan could've cut it?"

Seifer chuckled. "No. No way."

Calder's lips quirked upwards. "That bad?"

"You have to actually show up for classes in order to learn the shit."

"You saying you weren't a skiver?" Calder teased.

"This is going to hurt my reputation, isn't it?"

Calder chuckled.

"Nolan would love to hear all of this—to see your Guardian Forces."

Seifer's smile faltered. He shook his head. "You know why you can't tell him."

Calder sighed, but nodded. Nolan would never be able to keep a secret of that magnitude. He glanced at his wristwatch and let out a deep sigh, before rolling his eyes and leaning forwards in his seat. "I promised to pick him up at 8."

Checking the time, Seifer chuckled. "You'd better get going then."

"He can wait," Calder said, taking another sip of his whiskey, but the moment he swallowed the liquid, he felt his phone vibrate against his leg. Getting it out, he groaned at the name that greeted him on the display.

Listening as Nolan reamed out his older brother for being late, Seifer grinned, taking no little pride in the fact that he'd taught the boy at least half of the expletives that seemed to pour from the boy's mouth. It was Calder's own fault for being too soft.

When the call ended, Calder stood up from the couch and emptied his glass.

Seifer laughed. "You're such a pushover."

Calder rolled his eyes. "Don't complain. You exploit it just as badly."

Eyeing the man fondly, Seifer chuckled. He _had_ been known to take advantage of Calder on more than one occasion.

Putting on his jacket, Calder hesitated. "Call me."

"I will."

"All right then. Keep me posted. I hope he gets better soon," he said, once again indicating the bedroom. Referring to the SeeD commander by his first name would be too odd, the formal title no good either.

"Me too," Seifer said, standing from the couch as well and walking Calder to the door.

"See you," Calder said, then turned to leave.

Closing the door behind Calder, Seifer walked over to refill his glass. He took a few sips of his glass as he went over their conversation in his head. The atmosphere had been almost back to normal at the end. Calder hadn't pushed.

Putting the glass down on the kitchen counter, he walked towards the bedroom. As he opened the door quietly, it was a moment before his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. It was dark outside the window, a faint blue hue the only light in the room.

Squall was still asleep on the bed. This time Seifer was actually relieved to see Squall hadn't moved an inch. He wouldn't have known what to do if the sedatives hadn't worked. He didn't want to watch Squall in pain, and the longer Squall rested, the more Seifer allowed himself to hope that the man would be all right.

He walked over to where Squall was lying and carefully sat down at the edge of the bed. Reaching over, he pressed the back of his fingers to Squall's forehead. It was still warm, but less so than earlier. He moved his hand and pressed it to Squall's cheek instead.

Sighing, he stood up from the bed. There wasn't anything to do but wait.

Turning his back to Squall, he grabbed a pair of boxers and entered the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later he was clean, shaved, and dressed.

Tired, he stood still as he considered what to do. He couldn't join Squall in bed. Squall could wake during the night and all hell would break loose that way, even if it was just as harmless as him wanting a place to sleep, and the couch was in the other room, far away from where he wanted to be.

Deciding to forgo sleep for the time being, he walked over to sit by the far wall. Slumping back against the hard surface, he watched as the white duvet rose and fell slowly in time with Squall's breathing.

Shiva seemed to have calmed down. He couldn't pinpoint when it had happened, but it was nice to be free of her aggrieved presence, her pining for Squall.

The image of Rinoa sitting next to Squall on the bed in the hotel room came to mind. There had been love and concern in her eyes. The girl's broken voice and the words "I love you" replayed in his thoughts; the words he'd heard in her voice message. Squall should never have heard it.

Her admission had surprised Seifer; that it had been five months since she and Squall had split up. The "why" of the break up still confused him. She'd said it had been because she hadn't wanted to wait for Squall to love her back any longer, but in spite of her take on events, Squall obviously cared for her a great deal. But love? He couldn't judge that. He'd never seen love, never experienced it. If he had to take a guess, then downing a bottle of alcohol because of having lost someone would probably be high up there though.

And really, what else could love be if not Squall's reaction to Rinoa's voice mail? The brunet's lack of composure after what had happened at the club and the way he had changed for her—it all showed exactly that.

Why had Rinoa failed to see that? And why punish Squall with breaking the bond? Even _he_ could tell Squall hadn't been ready for that.

Back to the more familiar feeling of resentment towards Rinoa, he had to wonder what the hell Squall had seen in her. She'd always been lively and fun to be around, but that hardly fit with what he'd expect for Squall to look for in a girl. He'd sooner think her behavior would act like a repellent when it came to the reticent brunet.

He tried to empty his mind. The train of thought did little for his mood, but the stubborn part of him wouldn't let the topic go. He couldn't help but wonder what Rinoa and Squall had been like as a couple. He grimaced in distaste. Just thinking about the two together made his skin crawl.

Forcing his mind into a blank, he slowly steered it onto a different topic. What was the rest of Squall's life like? How many missions did the guy go on? Had his fighting style changed? Did he train students?

He couldn't see the gunblade cases from where he was sitting, but he had recognized Revolver's well enough. The other one had to be the blade Squall had used in his final battles against himself and Ultimecia. He hated to admit it, but those battles had been tough. Squall had always been the one to push him the hardest—during the war and before.

Would they ever get to spar again?

Their last conversation had been tense to say the least. Could they get past that?

More than likely, sharing his apartment with Squall would be awkward as hell. The part of him that wished Squall would just stay knocked out piped up again, but no matter how awkward things were going to become, he was looking forward to having Squall around as well. He'd always enjoyed riling Squall up, and when the man actually relented to a retort it was usually dry and snide. The kind of humor he could appreciate.

Quite possibly, he would just be ignored, but that was one thing he'd learned how to handle. Squall could never ignore him fully.

Arms and legs heavy with exhaustion, Seifer blinked. He angled his head more comfortably, slumping further against the wall.

...He'd close his eyes for a just few minutes, then get up and get a glass of water...

* * *

**A/N:** If people are still reading this, then thanks for sticking with us :) Hope you enjoyed the chapter - we'll try and get the next one out as soon as possible :) And many thanks to our lovely betas as usual - we love you Aera and Sway! :D (and sorry if any words are stuck together - FFN has a habit of doing that from time to time when we upload stuff O.o). And don't worry - next chapter will feature the return of a fully cognizant brunet ;)


	16. Square One

**~ Chapter Sixteen - Square One ~**

* * *

**[Seifer Almasy's Apartment, Zayin House, Wednesday, 22nd of October, 8:09 am]**

Huddled on his side, Squall woke buried under warm, soft fabric. Cold morning light was brushing his face, its brightness piercing through closed eyelids. He would have turned around but his limbs felt far too heavy and sore, so he scrunched his eyes tighter to ward off the incessant play of light.

A banging sound filled the room, oddly distant yet echoing and twisting sharply in his ears. Pain shot through his head in response, and even as the aggravating noise disappeared, a slow throb continued to pulse harshly against his skull. Unable to force himself into full alertness, his pulse quickened. Opening his eyes, he blinked several times before the painful blare of white shrunk into a bright square of light. A window.

He never slept in this long after sunrise. Usually the slightest disturbance snapped him from sleep, yet he felt more disoriented than he had in years. Why hadn't his alarm clock woken him?

Muddled thoughts of when exactly he'd fallen asleep were cut short as renewed banging filled the room, this time accompanied by the sound of someone groaning to his right. He stiffened as he realized all at once that he wasn't alone and that he didn't know where he was. The bed he was lying in was definitely not his.

Pushing himself upright, readying himself to bolt from the bed at the slightest sign of danger, he was given no chance to further take in his surroundings as his stomach instantly lurched at the too sudden shift in gravitation. Breaking out in a cold sweat as the room started to spin violently, he placed a hand on the soft bedding to stabilize himself. Eyes wrenched shut and jaw clenching at the acidic surge fighting its way up his throat, he only barely kept himself propped up, his trembling arm ready to give way any second.

"_Fuck_," someone cursed to his right, the sound followed by the rushed retreat and return of heavy footsteps.

Not having the luxury of questioning the sudden strong hand supporting him or the plastic container shoved underneath his face, Squall keeled over as his body erupted into convulsions, forcefully expelling what little content there was left in his practically empty stomach. His eyes instantly stung with involuntary tears at the acidic burn.

Dry heaving a final few times in vain, Squall shuddered when his queasiness started to subside. The only thing keeping him from collapsing was the firm grip on his shoulder.

"I'll get you some water," someone said, this time to his right, the voice ringing sharply in his ears. Unable to suppress a slight wince, he fought down his alarm at lacking the strength to resist being guided into a reclined position by the strong hand on his shoulder. He'd probably been drugged and most definitely needed to get the hell out of there. Peeling open heavy eyelids to assess his surroundings, he stilled against the mattress at the sight of the familiar blond.

"... Seifer?" he managed hoarsely after spending long seconds making sure it was Seifer who was studying him closely and not some drug induced mirage.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," Seifer said softly.

Welcome back? Squall wasn't even aware he'd been away. The way Seifer was smiling at him without pretense was unsettling—the man only ever grinned or smirked to try and rile him up. Immediately, contradictory flashes of a gently smiling blond, holding him tight, popped into his aching head along with returned theories of drug induced mirages. He must have hit his head _hard_. It definitely felt like he'd been down for a long time.

Watching as Squall scrunched his brow and brought up a hand to rub at his temple, Seifer grabbed the bucket from the floor. "I'll be back in a second."

As he entered the living room, a sound drew his eyes to the doorknob of his front door. Someone was trying to get in. Scrunching his brow, he closed the door to the bedroom softly before striding over to open the door. Outside Calder looked up from his cell phone, his hand hovering idly over where the doorknob had been. Seifer raised his eyebrow.

"What?" Calder asked he walked past the blond into the apartment. "I was worried. You didn't answer any of my knocks."

He'd been up until late the night before, twisting and turning in bed as he had considered everything he had been told and had witnessed. In the end he'd decided to check up on Seifer and Squall before heading in for an early workout session at the SCTA. When no one had answered his knocks, he'd been unable to leave without making sure everything was all right. By the looks of it, Seifer was far from okay. He joined the man by the sink, where he was already busy rinsing out a plastic bucket.

"Rough night?"

Seifer met Calder's glance only briefly before he filled a glass with water.

"Wait here," he said, walking past the man to get the pills Squall needed. Grabbing the clean bucket, he returned to the bedroom and set it down next to the bed. Placing the water and pills on the bedside table, he separated the two sedatives from the rest. Squall hadn't looked his way yet, the man's gaze locked on the ceiling.

He wasn't sure what to expect—how much Squall remembered. Those gray-blue eyes were back to their usual look of indifference, even though he knew the mind behind them was probably running a mile a minute. Sitting down at the edge of the bed, he watched the brunet closely as he waited for a reaction.

Squall remained still, ignoring Seifer's presence as he finished puzzling together what he could remember.

He hadn't hit his head... not that he knew anyway. The reality of what had happened was far worse. Rinoa had broken their bond, her absence from his mind glaring and drawing all his thoughts to the void where she used to be. But he couldn't allow himself to dwell on the fact; not now, not when he didn't have a clue about what was going on.

Something had obviously gone wrong at the lab, but he failed to fill in the blanks of exactly _how_ he'd ended up from whatever had happened there to lying incapacitated in Seifer's bed.

Slowly, in order not to worsen his growing migraine, he shifted his head on the pillow and faced Seifer. "I'm at your apartment," he finally managed, his voice gravelly.

Seifer had to suppress a grimace at Squall's words. Of course that was the first thing for Squall to bring up. "Blame Rinoa," he said as he avoided the man's gaze. The decision had been made, and Squall could put two and two together easily enough. "I've got your pills," he added. "Do you think you can manage to keep them down?"

Squall frowned. Like hell he would accept any pills from Seifer again without knowing exactly what they were for, especially when the blond couldn't even be bothered to explain why he'd been tucked into the man's bed. He didn't believe for a minute that this was Rinoa's doing.

Eyes narrowed at Seifer's evasive reply, he rephrased his earlier statement. "_Why_ am I at your apartment?... And where is Shiva?" he asked darkly, suddenly aware that his ice goddess was missing.

Releasing a deep sigh, Seifer returned his gaze to Squall. "How much do you remember?"

Squall frowned at the question, wondering just what Seifer knew. The blond had mentioned Rinoa, so they'd talked over the phone at least. _Again_. Searching his memory one last time, he suddenly had the unsettling thought that maybe _he'd_ been the one to drive all the way back to Seifer's apartment.

"...I was in my car. I had Shiva junctioned," he answered with a frown. It was all he could remember, the images blurry and distorted. He could still recall the panic of his ice goddess, his own disorientation, but not much more than that. "I was... looking for somewhere to go," he added as a vague impression of Shiva urging him to flee, to go somewhere safe, filtered back into his thoughts. Groaning inwardly, he sincerely hoped his subconscious hadn't chosen Seifer's apartment as said safe haven.

Resigning himself to fill in the blanks for Squall, Seifer's expression hardened. "You went to a hotel close by," he said, his lips sloping downwards as the image of how they'd found the brunet reasserted itself. "You were in a bad state. Rinoa came here. She hadn't heard from you in three days."

"We found you at the hotel. You weren't responding—hadn't taken your pills... Shiva's junction was messing up. You kept sliding in and out of it... Odine said your mind couldn't take it so I drew her from you," he said, recalling just how resistant and uncooperative the ice goddess had been. "She really doesn't like me. I think she's been too spoiled in that head of yours. Too much composure and logic," he added with a smirk.

A weak glare was all Squall could muster in reply. He couldn't decide what was worse: him having been unconscious for three whole days in a hotel room, or Seifer witnessing him in such a sorry state. It was the club all over again—the blond seeing exactly those things he least wanted the man to see.

Annoyed with talking to the blond from his reclined position, he slowly moved into a sitting position. He was spared another attack of crippling nausea, but his head throbbed with a new onslaught of pain, temporarily thwarting his resolve to get answers. Releasing an uneven sigh, he briefly closed his eyes and brought up a hand to massage his forehead when he remembered Seifer's mention of pills.

"... Are those Odine's pills?"

"Mhm," Seifer answered, growing less tense at the change of topic. "The two on the left are sedatives, in case you just want to zonk out," he added, feeling some of his own tiredness returning. He couldn't believe he'd fallen asleep on the floor.

Following Seifer's gaze to the two pills, Squall immediately shot down the suggestion. "I've been unconscious long enough."

Taking the glass of water from the bedside table, he grimaced as he sloshed around a mouthful of water to rid himself of the sour taste lingering on his tongue before spitting it out into the bucket Seifer had placed beside the bed. Downing the pills one by one, he left only the sedatives behind.

He didn't immediately look up from his empty glass as his thoughts returned to the crucial bit of information Seifer was still withholding from him. It didn't make any sense for him to be at the blond's apartment. He'd sooner expect to wake up at Loire's.

"Why am I _here_?"

Seifer narrowed his eyes at Squall's firm tone. "Get over yourself," he said, getting up from the bed and crossing his arms. He was done listening to Squall's incredulity.

"Rinoa thought it'd be best if I looked after you because of my... _experience_," he said harshly, spelling it out when the brunet was obviously too slow to make the connection himself. "You're not going anywhere until you're better, so just _deal_." Squall would either catch up or find his ass relocated to Garden.

Squall cringed as Seifer's incensed voice reverberated loudly through the bedroom, aggravating his headache. Apparently something had gone on to change Rinoa's mind about Seifer for her to agree to something as outrageous as this, let alone suggest it. But what he could understand even less was Seifer going along with it. Maybe Rinoa didn't understand the stupidity of her plan, but Seifer should.

He had left the blond's apartment not because he had wanted to, but because Seifer had _needed_ him to. Seifer was the last person who should have to look after him, the man's _experience_ precisely the reason why this was a terrible idea. Anybody else would have found his situation ironically fitting, would have wished it on him even, not take him in.

"After last time... I didn't think you'd—" Discomforted by his inability to find the right words, his features turned expressionless. "Never mind."

"No, Squall, go on. Finish your sentence," Seifer said as he scrutinized the brunet, his voice tempered only in consideration for the man's apparent sensitivity to sound. "You didn't think I'd _what_?"

Only a small twitch interrupted his composed mask as Squall kept his eyes lowered, his gaze traveling the creases and folds of white cotton sheets. He didn't want Seifer to see how affected he was by being back in the blond's apartment. He simply wasn't supposed to be there.

Meeting Seifer's gaze, he kept all inflection out of his voice as he called things as he saw them. "You don't want me here. I don't know what Rinoa said, but... you don't need to do this. I can leave."

"You're not going anywhere," Seifer stated firmly.

An incredulous huff from the other room broke the silence, immediately drawing Seifer's attention to the doorway. When Calder entered the room, Seifer stared at him coldly, making sure his body language conveyed nothing but _get the fuck out of here_.

Unfazed by Seifer's grim demeanor, Calder looked over to the brunet sitting on the bed. He'd been surprised to hear the man behave just as stubbornly and hare-brained as the blond. It seemed neither would face the obvious or own up to the truth.

"First of all, you're in no condition to leave," he stated plainly. "Second of all, if Seifer could spend the rest of his life pampering your ass, I think he'd die a happy man," he added, annoyed at how Seifer was behaving like he hadn't been worried sick and hadn't done everything in his power to take care of the brunet.

As Seifer returned Calder's stern gaze, his expression grew impossibly dark. He wanted to deck the guy, to punch the living daylights out of the meddling shit.

"I'll find my own way out," Calder said, lingering a moment longer before leaving the two men staring.

Raising an eyebrow at the stranger who was actually stupid enough to turn his back and walk away after pressing almost all of Seifer's buttons, Squall wasn't surprised when Seifer immediately started after the guy, hot on his trail and absolutely _seething_.

Sounds of metal scraping against wood came from the other room, soon followed by something heavy thudding to the floor. Seifer had clearly caught up with the stranger.

"What the _fuck_ was that about?!" Seifer's voice boomed. An image of the blond roughly pinning the other guy to the wall materialized easily before Squall's mind's eye, a treatment he'd been intimately familiar with during his cadet years.

Renewed sounds of struggling reached the bedroom. "Oh, come on, Seifer, it's obvious you have a th—" The man's words were abruptly cut off and replaced by the gasp of someone having the wind knocked out of him.

For a while the sound of uncoordinated footsteps and labored breathing were the only things Squall could hear, until a door was opened forcibly. "Out!" Seifer yelled hotly.

After a moment of silence he heard quick footsteps retreating and then the front door was slammed shut.

Squall remained in place. Why had the stranger been so intent on starting a fight, and why had he been in Seifer's apartment in the first place? Judging by the way Seifer had reacted, the blond had been angered by the man's words, but not the man's presence in itself. He wasn't sure what to make of that; the fewer people who saw him this weak the better. But more than that, he didn't like the assuming way the stranger had spoken to him.

_No one_ told him what to do—not Seifer and definitely not strangers.

At the image of the blond looking down at him, arms crossed and laying down the law, Squall's mood darkened. It would take more than a little nausea and a few barked orders to keep him from going wherever the hell he pleased. Slowly, he moved to the side of the bed and swung his legs over the edge, planting his feet against a floor that seemed to be shifting for a few moments. White swarmed at the edge of his vision before his sense of balance was restored.

Steadying himself with both arms, he cast a look at the open bedroom door. Seifer hadn't made any sign of returning. At a loss for what to do, his resolve to leave deflated as quickly as his irritation.

It didn't make sense for Seifer to do this. Just a few days ago, the man had practically fled from his presence, and now he was ordering him to stay? He knew Rinoa could be convincing, but this was a stretch too far.

He couldn't bring himself to get up and get out, even though self preservation and common sense dictated that he should.

Realizing staying would be just as wrong, he scoffed at his lack of resolve. Wondering why Seifer still wasn't coming in, the odd thought occurred to him that they were waiting each other out.

That was new. And ridiculous.

He commanded himself to man up, but Seifer beat him to it. Renewed footsteps reached his ears, drawing closer and stopping in the doorway of the bedroom. Green eyes met his as Seifer leaned against the door frame. The blond offered no explanation for the stranger's presence.

Pushing away the sheets bunched up around his waist, Squall shifted on the mattress to better face the blond. "A friend of yours?" he asked, all momentum of their earlier confrontation lost.

"Yeah," Seifer said noncommittally, not feeling much friendship towards the annoying prick he'd just forced out of his apartment.

Watching Squall on the bed, the man's pose rigid, he suppressed a sigh. He didn't know what the brunet had made of Calder's words, but together with his own admissions of not having been able to control himself the night they'd ended up in bed together, the evidence was pretty damning.

"Look..." he started, but immediately fell silent again. He wouldn't deny his attraction to Squall. Not only would it be a complete lie, it would also be far too late to start down that road now. He wasn't ashamed of wanting Squall. He was gay, and the brunet was damned sexy; that was just the reality of their situation. Squall had probably already figured things out before Calder's interference anyway.

"Do you need anything? You shouldn't get out of bed."

Squall frowned at the evasive response. Bristling at the blond's supposed authority but lacking the energy to start another argument, he raised a tired hand to knead at his brow instead. The meds he had taken were starting to drag his eyelids back down again.

Not liking how weak Squall looked, Seifer considered blindsiding him with a Sleep spell, but for all he knew the brunet's uncanny affinity for magic had recovered right along with the man's return to cognizance. "You should lie down."

Brow twitching, Squall took a slow breath and told himself to at least keep his composure intact, even if his pride was already a lost cause. "Stop telling me what to do," he said, pushing up from the bed.

Studying the brunet, Seifer narrowed his eyes. Of course the stubborn prick would interpret his suggestion as an order. "Where are you going?"

Squall sent the blond a withering glare. "To take a piss," he replied dryly. He would never admit he hadn't decided on what to do yet.

Almost chuckling at the harsh delivery that reminded Seifer of their cadet days, he instead held Squall's gaze. At least the brunet didn't seem to be heading for the exit. Maybe things could work out. They'd need to get used to each other, sure, but the brunet wasn't looking at him with disgust or loathing, just that same old stubborn stare he'd fought off a million times before. What they needed was time to regroup, and he sure as hell could do with a nap.

"Suit yourself. I'll be in the other room," he said, straightening up. Turning around to leave, he stopped in the doorway and fixed his gaze on Squall. "But no leaving," he stated firmly, holding Squall's glare for a second longer before taking the final step into the living room. He'd hunt the man's ass down if he woke up to an empty apartment.

Irked by the overly-confident parting shot, Squall listened out for what the bastard was up to. Not thinking the man beyond taking up a guarding post near the bedroom door, he was relieved to hear Seifer's footsteps leading further away, followed by a muted thud and low groan. It sounded like the blond had retired to the couch.

With Seifer out of sight and the need to keep a strong front temporarily gone, his exhaustion came back full force. When no additional sound came from the other room, he decided he might as well accept the ceasefire. He would figure things out later, when he was rested and equipped to deal with the situation. As much as he hated to admit it, Seifer's visitor had hit too close to home when pointing out his weakened state.

Stretching sore back muscles, Squall glanced at the inviting sheets and pillows, but as tempting as the thought of lying back down was, he could _smell_ himself. The grime on his skin and in his hair was impossible to ignore once he'd paid notice, and a sour taste lingered on his tongue in spite of the water he'd downed.

Eyes traveling to his duffel bags, the promise of a toothbrush stirred him into action. Some fresh clothes would be welcome, too. About to get to his feet, he halted mid-movement as his gaze wandered down to take in the faded t-shirt and boxers he was wearing—items that _definitely_ weren't his.

Clenching his jaw, Squall processed the humiliating realization that Seifer had had to undress and clothe him. Praying to Hyne that three days of fevered sweating was the only reason to have prompted such actions, he hated that he couldn't even blame the bastard blond. He'd woken up in Garden's infirmary plenty of times, cut out of his clothes and dressed in nothing but a gown and bandages... but Seifer wasn't Kadowaki.

Releasing the sheets from his white-knuckled grasp, he pushed up from the bed a bit harsher than he should have, his head reeling as he shuffled over to where his bags were placed. Holding out a hand to the dresser for support, he paused and shook his head to dispel the odd sensation of the floor surging upwards, enveloping his feet in darkness.

_Hyne, what has the bond done?_

Suppressing the flutter of panic that started to squeeze the air from his lungs, he took a deep breath and willed himself to continue with the task he'd set himself. Pulling open the zipper of the largest bag, he stared at its contents far too long before he reluctantly settled on a pair of drawstring pants instead of jeans. He'd leave once he'd gotten some rest.

Grabbing what he needed, he made his way to the bathroom. As he pulled the door closed behind him, he was overcome with a sense of déjà vu. The small room was as messy as the last time he'd been there, and he felt just as overwhelmed by the situation as he had then. His gaze landed on a small pile of sodden towels in the sink. Surmising their purpose, he tried to imagine the blond brute placing a cooling towel on his forehead but failed. Seifer had never had any patience with the ill or injured back at Garden, his bedside manners nonexistent.

With a small frown, he wrung out the small towels and removed them from the sink. Making thorough work of brushing his teeth, he avoided his reflection in the mirror after the first glance he'd caught of the dark circles under his eyes and his sickly complexion. He quickly stripped out of Seifer's boxers and t-shirt and tossed them onto a pile of white bed covers protruding from the hamper.

Too exhausted to muster more than a frustrated sigh at finding himself back where he'd started, he stepped under the hot spray of the shower. His thoughts were distracted with the need for sleep, the hand rubbing at his temples not bringing any clarity. Turning up the temperature to the brink of what was bearable, he focused on how the scalding water washed away three days worth of grime, the heat doing wonders for the aches all over his body.

Eyes shut, he felt around in the billowing clouds of steam for soap, his hand closing around a plastic bottle. Squirting an ample amount of gel into his hand, he started to methodically scrub down his skin.

As his fingers worked the soap into his scalp, a stale scent permeated the air, the odor familiar yet dancing just outside the grasp of his memory. Turning his face into the spray, he rinsed the soap from his eyes and glanced down at the bottle he'd used. Sniffing its contents and his skin, he couldn't pinpoint the source of the old, damp scent that filled the shower stall. A shiver rolled down his spine as he remembered the unnatural cold that had accompanied the smell in the past.

Hastily, he washed away the last of the suds. Pulse thrumming fast, he turned off the water and drew the shower curtain aside. Steam swirled thickly in the air as he stepped onto the cold tiles and looked around the room.

Just as he was about to chalk everything up to the old building's bad plumbing, feeling foolish for his overactive imagination, darkness gathered at the lower edge of his vision and the feeling of the floor moving beneath his feet returned. The steam in the air seemed to be sinking to the floor, gathering in thick wisps of gray fog that curled and swelled as if alive. Looking down, he could no longer see the tiles of the bathroom floor. Large drops of water dripped from his hair and skin into the moving mass, only slightly disturbing the flow of its currents.

Instinctively, he sought out Shiva, only to stumble onto her absence. He quickly pulled Griever into junction instead, but before he could complete the link, the vision of fog was shattered by a sharp jolt of pain that cut straight through his brain. Releasing an involuntary groan, he snapped his eyes open again to the sight of white tiles and a large puddle of water growing at his feet. His nostrils filled with the fresh scent of soap.

His thoughts raced as the rush of adrenaline kicked in belatedly. In the back of his mind, he sensed Griever stir in mild concern, but apparently the protective alpha didn't sense any threat that warranted more than the equivalent of cracking open a heavy-lidded eye to see what the fuss was about.

/_There's nothing here?_/ Squall asked, not trusting his own instincts. A snorted breath was all the reply he received as the unimpressed lion returned to his slumber.

Only mildly reassured, Squall grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist, glancing at the bathroom floor. He didn't like the theory that was forming. If the fog hadn't been real, then that left only one other option.

He knew of this sort of thing: an exhausted subconscious playing tricks. During training at Garden, they'd been warned that sleep deprivation could lead to hallucinations—that they might encounter it in the field as a torturing tactic when captured. His current circumstances were quite different, but the notion wasn't that far a stretch. Three days of unconsciousness didn't exactly amount to restful sleep, and the breaking of the bond couldn't have helped matters.

In spite of his conclusion, Squall couldn't help the urge to quicken his moves and dress quickly. He felt as if the ancient air that had hung over the plains of Time Compression still clung to him, nameless fears threatening to spill back into the present.

He didn't care to scrutinize why his subconscious had dredged them up, but apparently even memories of Time Compression weren't enough to make much of an impression, his eyelids beginning to droop.

Sluggish steps brought him back into the bedroom and after a slight hesitance, to the door leading to the living room. As he stood in the doorway, his gaze fell to where Seifer's large form was sprawled across the too-small couch, the plaid blanket already slipping off to one side after the blond had moved around in his sleep.

In his exhaustion, he didn't ponder the fact that he was far less bothered at the possible prospect of staying with Seifer than he should be; he could only think of getting some much needed rest. He tore away his eyes from the sleeping blond and slowly moved to lie down on the man's bed, leaving the bedroom door ajar.

* * *

**[Seifer Almasy's Apartment, Zayin House, Wednesday, 22nd of October, 10:24 am]**

The loud ring tone and insistent buzzing against Seifer's thigh jerked the blond from his sleep. Letting out a low groan, he tried to force himself awake, his limbs protesting.

"Yeah?" he managed in a hoarse grumble, bringing the phone to his ear.

"Forgot about work?" Arc demanded.

The words successfully jolted Seifer into a sitting position. "I... _shit_."

"Not coming in today either?" the older man asked, unimpressed.

Seifer knew he couldn't head in to work, not right away at least. Squall might be better, but they still didn't know by how much. "No," he said, resigning himself to letting Arc down. "I—"

"You know I'm relying on you," Arc cut him off. "You were supposed to have the blaster edge ready by today."

"I know," Seifer intoned, clenching his hands. "I'll try and come in tonight. It'll have to wait until then." That was as much as he would concede to. He knew he needed to get further on the weapons, but he had to make sure Squall would be all right first.

"Hn", Arc grumbled in acknowledgment, sounding far from appeased. "You better have the blaster edge ready by tomorrow morning," he said before hanging up.

Closing his cell phone, Seifer cursed. Just yesterday he'd been ready to take a month off or however long it would take for Squall to recover, but already the reality of his situation was sinking in. He couldn't just ignore Arc and his responsibilities, nor did he have much money to spare. Any time spent away from work meant deductions in his wage: money he sorely needed to pay his bills.

Staring at the ceiling, he almost didn't hear the soft shuffle of slow footsteps entering the room. Straightening in his seat, he took in the sight that greeted him; a sleep mussed Squall wearing cozy drawstring pants and a soft cotton shirt. Wild strands of dark hair pointed in every direction apart from where a pillow had flattened them entirely.

He would have enjoyed seeing Squall like that, if the brunet hadn't looked so out of it. The man's unstable gait didn't help matters, nor the hands placed on the kitchen counter in a steadying move. Squall looked spent after the mild relocation.

"Hey..." Seifer said softly. "You really shouldn't be up. If you need anything I'll get it for you."

"I needed a change of scenery," Squall returned curtly, not very endeared by the thought of lying in bed all day. The few hours of sleep he'd caught hadn't been restful at all, and he doubted any _more_ sleep would do the trick when the problem wasn't quantity but quality.

Moving his gaze from the counter to rest on the blond, Squall straightened his posture when he spotted the man's frown. Any remaining vestiges of sleep disappeared as he realized his more than disheveled appearance and the rather unimpressive entrance he'd just made.

Pushing away thoughts of having earned himself Seifer's pity, he moved away from the kitchen, needing to sit down. Carefully he made his way to the couch and lowered himself to sit next to the blond, sighing softly as he relaxed into a reclined position.

His thoughts returned to the already dissipating images he'd woken up from. He recalled the vague impressions of foggy landscapes, always shifting and plunged in silence, and the feeling of old dust grating his lungs with every inhale of stale air. It had been a long time since he'd slept this badly, his rest disturbed by a dream for the first time in over two years. He should have expected it, but more important matters had occupied his thoughts than the possibility that he might start to dream again. With the bond gone, Rinoa could no longer give him undisturbed sleep.

"It's good to see you up," Seifer said as he leaned into the couch as well. His uncomfortable night on the floor had left his body tired and aching. Arching his neck to rest against the back of the couch, he closed his eyes and slowed his breathing.

Pulled from his thoughts, Squall glanced at the weary-looking blond, reminded of the phone call and curses that had woken him in the first place. "Trouble?"

"Just work," Seifer replied, keeping his eyes closed. "I'll probably have to go in tonight," he added reluctantly, turning his gaze to study Squall closely. He wasn't happy to leave the man alone after what he'd witnessed so far.

Scowl in place, Squall supplied dryly, "I'll be fine without a babysitter."

Not convinced the brunet should be left alone so soon, Seifer frowned. "I could stay home."

"No need." Squall didn't have to think before dismissing the offer, already frustrated enough with his less than ideal condition without someone else continuously pointing it out.

"And how do you judge that?" Seifer asked, unable to curb his tongue as he sat up in the couch properly again.

"I'm fine," Squall deadpanned, officially annoyed with the blond. Apparently his having stayed this long was giving Seifer the false impression that he wouldn't just leave the moment he wanted to. He sure as hell wasn't staying because he needed the blond to hold his hand.

"_Fine_?" Seifer asked back, raising an eyebrow at Squall actually having the audacity to use that line on him. "Unless getting out of breath from walking ten steps is actually normal for you, you are far from _fine_." He paused as he looked Squall over. "I'll agree to no babysitter on one condition: You call if anything changes. _Anything_."

All retorts died on Squall's lips as Seifer implied he couldn't even be trusted to _walk_ without falling over. One brief moment of not being perfectly awake, of letting down his guard, and already he was paying for it, the bastard throwing it right back in his face. He couldn't exactly deny his unsteady entrance into the room, but being _tired_ didn't make him a damned invalid.

Eyes narrowing darkly, he turned his gaze away before he felt tempted to land a punch and prove just how little he needed to be looked after.

"Deal?" Seifer asked firmly.

Squall huffed inwardly. Deals were supposed to be mutually beneficial, not enforced.

"I guess I'll be staying home then."

Alarm bells ringing, Squall turned to meet Seifer's eyes, the man seeming completely serious in his threat. He didn't put it beyond the idiot to ditch work for the sole purpose of irritating him all evening instead. Seifer had never been very good at taking no for an answer. Frowning, he briefly closed his eyes. He really couldn't deal with an entire day of this crap.

"_Fine_. I'll call." It was the lesser of two evils, the one that got Seifer off his back. Besides, nothing would happen to warrant a call for help.

Suppressing a smirk when Squall played right into his hands, Seifer leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. He was still tired as fuck and couldn't think of much else but catching a nap. The prospect of talking to Squall wasn't that appealing with how strained things were between them. Maybe after some sleep he'd actually be able to muster the energy to deal with the brunet.

When no gloating comment came, the blond lounging back contentedly against the couch, Squall inexplicably felt his annoyance rise. Seifer had never been graceful about a victory before, usually more than happy to rub it in whenever he won anything. Being dismissed so easily the moment he'd yielded seemed more insulting somehow.

Scoffing, he reminded himself that he _wanted_ to be left alone when the sound of deepened breathing reached his ears. Incredulous, he looked next to him to find the blond fast asleep, the man's head tilted to the side and his mouth hanging open slightly. The bastard had actually fallen asleep. Unsure whether he should consider that less or more insulting than being disregarded completely, he watched the blond with a growing frown.

Why had he taken such crap from the man in the first place? The moment Seifer had started planning for the evening, he should have told him not to bother, that he wasn't going to stick around—but he hadn't. Seifer had insulted him, had stressed the necessity of a babysitter, and his only response had been "no need." Most incriminating of all, he hadn't said a thing to correct Seifer's assumption that he would be staying.

His mood darkened at the realization. He was rarely this conflicted over anything. He made decisions and stuck to them—never stalled the inevitable. He'd have to leave eventually—if not right away, then the moment Seifer considered his duty done. He shouldn't even _want_ to stay in the first place. Nothing more would come of it than a lot of discomfort and them frustrating each other endlessly. He didn't want to see Seifer lose it again because of his presence.

As he watched the sleeping blond, restless thoughts started to pluck at the edges of his composure, demanding he analyze their situation until it made sense. After everything that had happened, it sure as hell didn't make sense for Seifer to take him in like this. His eyes brushing past angular features and blond strands of hair, he was confounded by the invasion of foreign emotions overlapping and interweaving with the familiar mess of feelings Seifer usually invoked.

Their rivalry had given him the drive to become stronger, to outgrow his childhood weakness. It had given him companionship at a time when he'd told himself he didn't need any; a goal when everything else had seemed pointless or uninteresting. And even though those days had been the simplest, the way he'd felt around the blond had already been conflicted even back then: equal parts admiration and annoyance. The war had layered on darker feelings. Anger. Powerlessness. Regret. He had thought it couldn't get much more messed up than that, but now...

Now he knew the truth and its consequences. Seifer wasn't the cadet he used to know anymore. The man still seemed arrogant and short-tempered, but the war had changed the blond. He'd witnessed Seifer weary and evasive, apologetic even, and that was only what Seifer had allowed him to see. That he was partly to blame was reason enough for him to stay away, but he seemed unable to, even when _nothing_ had happened to make things easier between them since their accidental meeting at the club.

His interactions with Seifer had been schizophrenic to say the least, ranging from attacking the blond to ending up in the man's bed. Around the blond his actions seemed inspired by stupidity, pride, or impulse; rational reasoning was a hard thing to come by when Seifer was pushing his buttons like no one else could. He couldn't decide whether to punch the guy and leave or to try and go back to the way things used to be. Hell, he wasn't even sure whether those two options were mutually exclusive when dealing out punches had been their preferred method of communication as cadets, second only to sparring.

Next to him, Seifer was starting to tilt to one side inelegantly, slumping towards the armrest opposite of where Squall was sitting. Watching the almost humorous display of sleep lulling the big bad blond into an awkward position, the man's features completely unguarded, Squall felt his own tiredness again. He was almost envious of Seifer's apparent ability to fall asleep anytime, anywhere. If he was right in his guess, the idiot had slept on the _floor_ the night previous.

Why the man bothered so much was beyond him. He couldn't even understand Seifer allowing him back into the apartment. The man seemed to have convinced himself that he had to do this._ Blame Rinoa._ That's the excuse Seifer had chosen to use, but Squall knew better than that. No one could make Seifer do anything unless the blond decided he wanted to himself—which didn't make any sense in this case. There was no reason for Seifer to want to do this.

In fact, he couldn't think of reasons for a lot of things the blond had done—especially the one thing he had tried to avoid thinking about the most, but it was rather difficult to keep that up when the object of his confusion was sitting right next to him.

Seifer had offered him Avalanche. At the time he had reasoned it away as a strange peace offering, but it was hardly a normal way to start things off after years of not having seen each other, after a war. Why accepting the drug had seemed like a good idea eluded him now. He sure as hell was cured of his curiosity now that they were saddled with the aftermath and Seifer could only be feeling the same regret on the matter.

Perhaps neither of them had ever needed actual reasons to do monumentally stupid things when merely the other's presence seemed to suffice. The unexpected effect of those pills had been no one's fault, just an unfortunate freak accident. There was no way Seifer could have known, no way he would have even _mentioned_ the Avalanche if that was the case. At least that much was clear to him now. It had been an accident they simply needed to forget.

It could almost have been that simple too, that easy to shrug off, if it hadn't been for his actual memories of that night. He was afraid to examine them. No good conclusions could come from pondering sex with Seifer when those three words alone sent his sanity running.

Glancing at the blond who was now fully slumped against the armrest, Squall frowned. _Of course_ the experience hadn't been horrible or repulsive. At least if it had been horrible, he could have classified the whole ordeal under the category "unimpressive and unimportant" and moved on, but that description refused to apply to anything to do with the bastard blond. He _knew_ the Avalanche was to blame for all of it, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with—not when he could still remember everything they had done, everywhere Seifer had touched.

Sex with Rinoa hadn't been something he'd really enjoyed. He'd never wanted it in the first place. On the contrary; it had required more intimacy than he cared for, a vulnerability he didn't want to expose himself to. It meant letting go. The problem hadn't been with Rinoa. She had been beautiful and patient, so concerned with what he had _needed_ and what she could do to get him to relax. But in spite of her efforts, the sex had been awkward and unsatisfying for them both. It couldn't have been more different with Seifer.

It made him wonder what kind of effect Avalanche could have had on his inhibition problems with Rinoa. Would it have been just as good? He had difficulty imagining it the way he and Seifer had had sex. The blond had been rough and aggressive, and perhaps the most unsettling memory was how easily he'd succumbed to the passive role, how good it had felt to let Seifer take the lead. No woman could touch him the way Seifer had, dominance and masculinity in everything the blond did. He could still _feel_ the way his thighs had been gripped tightly by large hands, his hips yanked up and _heat_ pressing into—

Seifer chose that moment to stir in his sleep and cradle his head a bit more comfortably against the cushioned armrest with a soft sigh before stilling again. Snapped from his thoughts, Squall tore his eyes away from the downward path they had been following along Seifer's chest and stood up from the couch. Fleeing to the kitchen area, he turned his back to the sleeping man.

..._Hyne_. Apparently it didn't matter that drugs had made the experience into what it was; he was still affected by it regardless. Avalanche had turned sex with Seifer into the single most sexually satisfying experience he'd ever had.

Frowning at how quickly his thoughts had deteriorated, he realized he'd need to put a stop to this immediately. There was no point in trying to make sense of something that had happened under the influence of chemical substances, no point in reanalyzing his disposition towards sex because of it. So what if it had been good? It had also been wrong and would never happen again. That was the _only_ way to deal with it; to accept it had happened and forget about it, especially if he was to stay.

Pausing mid-thought then, he wasn't exactly surprised at where his train of thought had led him. He could no longer maintain he needed more rest before he'd be able to hit the road. He could've left already.

Reminded of moths and flames, he scowled, but knew his decision was made. No matter how stupid it would be for him to stay, their shared past deserved at least _some _effort. Maybe they could even return to their spars if he managed to put up with the bastard long enough.

Glancing at the blond, he wondered if even a small part of Seifer's reasons stemmed from the same desire to clear the air between them. The man's orders hadn't been up for creative interpretation—_no leaving_.

Shaking his head, Squall huffed. Apparently he was still capable of foolishly naive thoughts, in spite of the lessons life had taught him.

No, if anything had motivated the blond into taking him in, it was a misguided attempt at redemption. He hadn't forgotten Seifer's confessions of the war, nor the guilt eating away at the man. If he left, Seifer would never believe otherwise, but if he stayed... maybe things could change.

Drawing resolve from the tentative hope, he had all the more reason to cut short his inappropriate musings. He'd need a level head if he was to deal with his self-appointed guardian without resorting to decking the guy. He wouldn't allow their night together to become a weakness.

Satisfied he'd made the right choice, some of the tension left his shoulders.

Walking over to the kitchen cupboards, he quietly opened and closed several in search of a glass. Filling it with water, he leaned back against the counter and let his eyes roam the small apartment.

The most pressing issue dealt with, there were other matters to consider. What would he tell Garden... his friends? He hadn't foreseen any complications when deciding to keep them in the dark about the bond. There was no telling how quickly he'd recover, and he only had a few days of leave scheduled. Quistis would start asking questions soon.

Finishing his glass, he considered his options. The sooner he made some calls, the sooner he'd be able to keep this incident from spreading through the grapevine. And somehow, he'd need to keep Seifer out of the spotlight. The man might be willing to house him, but he doubted the blond wanted any attention drawn to him as a result.

Setting the glass in the sink, his eyes fell to his leather jacket hanging by the front door—where he'd last left his cell phone. Quietly, he padded over, hating how he needed to place a steadying hand on the counter. Waiting a few seconds for the resulting head rush to disappear, he patted his jacket's left pocket and retrieved his phone. Any missed calls would be the best way to know how obvious his three day absence had been—just who had taken notice.

Flipping open his cell, he raised an eyebrow at the message flickering on the display.

_25 missed calls_.

Calling up the menu to inspect further, he frowned as he skimmed over the list. Three calls from Odine Laboratories, two from Loire, and not very reassuring, one from Quistis. The headmistress in training rarely disturbed him during his leaves in Esthar, unless it was for official business. He'd have to figure out what to tell her, and fast.

But even as he tried to focus on a game plan, his eyes kept glancing back up to the name at the top of the list.

_Rinoa. 19 missed calls._

His chest tight, he quickly pushed away the list, only for another one to pop up, demanding his attention.

_4 voice mails._

All from Rinoa.

He stared at his cell, the name displayed on the screen bright and accusing. He swallowed deeply, his thumb lingering idly above the button that would summon her voice.

He couldn't avoid this indefinitely.

Pressing play before he changed his mind, he brought the cell phone to his ear.

The subdued crackle of an open phone line told him the recording had started, but nothing was said for a while. Then there was a soft cough, as if the woman wanted to clear her throat; stall a bit longer.

"...Hi." The greeting sounded as numb as he felt. "I thought, in case you're wondering—I'm back at Cecilia's, but she's out... It's just me and Angelo—" Rinoa's voice cracked on the pet's name. He recognized the sound well enough, having been the cause of most of her crying fits. "_Hyne_, I _know_ I shouldn't be calling you... It's only been, what, five hours? I just—I hope you're okay. You left so quickly... Call me when you hear this?" The feeble request was followed by a soft sigh, a muted silence, before she spoke again. "Never mind, just—just call me tomorrow, as agreed, okay? ... Take care, Squall."

Another pause fell, but she seemed to think better of adding any parting words and the call was broken off.

Blindsided by the impact of her voice, the frail silences and soft pleas making everything painfully real, Squall snapped his cell phone closed. The brief call, made against Rinoa's better judgment, had bled loneliness.

They were no longer each other's rock.

Stirring from his stupor, Squall glanced at the couch. Seifer still lay oblivious to the world, no longer offering any distractions to keep his mind from going where he didn't want it to go—to where Rinoa had been. The windowless living room seemed too small all of a sudden, claustrophobia sneaking up on him. Normally, he'd already have been out the door, Lion Heart in hand and on his way to the nearest monster population. For a brief moment, he seriously considered doing just that, but the reality of his condition quickly caught up with him as his vision began to swarm with white flecks again.

Fist clenching around his cell phone, he made his way back to the bedroom, the only reprieve within reach. Throwing open the window, he slowly unclenched his hold on the cell phone and placed it on the window sill. The chill of the autumn air flowed into the room, soothing as it hit his skin. The reflex to look for comfort in the open air, in the cold, was an old one, stemming from the day he'd finally yielded to Shiva's promise of comfort and accepted her as more than an alien entity buried in his mind.

She had been his first taste of what it felt like not to be alone; to matter to someone, even if it was only as a host.

Rinoa had been his second taste. The touch of her mind had been much more fulfilling than Shiva's, the girl's love a bright burst of feelings that no ice goddess could emulate. As caring as Shiva was, she wasn't human. She couldn't hold him or care for him the way a lover could.

It had seemed so perfect at first. With Rinoa he hadn't needed to second-guess her feelings for him. They had been there, in his head, free for him to prod at and explore. He'd only been able to hold on to his doubts for so long, when tangible proof had been broadcast into their bond with her every smile and kiss.

But with new realizations came ugly suspicions. He'd _needed_ it so much. He'd used her. If love was selfless, then he'd failed miserably. He'd taken all she had to offer but had given nothing in return.

And now a gaping absence in his mind was all he had to show for a two year long relationship.

His head _hurt_, and his body felt like it wouldn't hold up in battle longer than a minute, but other than that the consequences seemed inconspicuous. Rinoa was simply _gone_. It was a dull ache, but with a twinge of guilt he realized it wasn't because he missed _her_. It was the emptiness she had briefly filled. Frowning, he wondered how much of a bastard that made him.

Overtaken with self-loathing, he tried to purge the thoughts from his mind and closed his eyes to better feel the wind. He'd get used to this. It's how he'd lived for seventeen years before she'd come along. Shiva was all the company he needed.

Leaning against the window sill, he let his mind drift and remembered the trips Shiva used to take him on whenever he'd sought her out in the past—before Rinoa. Half-formed images of a white landscape, crisp and blissfully uncomplicated, took shape. He called to mind the scent of old pines, the cry of forest animals in the distance, all of it infused with an otherworldly sense of peace. The conjured memories were a poor imitation of Shiva's dream weaving, but it would have to be enough. It was the only escape he had left.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry for the disappearance act - life's been crazy hectic for both of us. We've changed a lot up after this has been in the hands of our lovely betas, so any (and all) mistakes are ours.

During our absence we received this amazing piece of fanart - thank you KDDS!  
https (colon slash slash) dropbox (d o t) com (slash) s (slash) 8ruitnd08u8u3nr (slash) IE(d o t)JPG


	17. Failing Masks

**~ Chapter Seventeen - Failing Masks ~**

* * *

**[Seifer Almasy's Apartment, Zayin House, Wednesday, 22nd of October, 2:04 pm]**

Waking up to the feeling of a cool breeze against his skin, Seifer stretched and stifled a yawn. He wasn't sure how he'd come to lie down, but he'd managed to spread himself across the entire couch. Blearily, he searched the room for any sign of Squall. Spotting the brunet's jacket still hanging at the back of his front door, he let his head fall back to rest against the soft cushions. At least he wouldn't have to hunt the bastard down a second time.

As another cold gust of air flowed against his arms, he glanced over to the bedroom. Muted sounds of the outside world traveled in through the open door. He glanced at his clock.

_2:06 pm._

He'd slept for far too long, but at least he felt rested now. Smelling old sweat on himself, it wasn't hard to imagine what he looked like: crumpled clothes, messy hair and morning stubble. Definitely not a winning combination.

Not that Squall had looked any better that morning. In all the years he'd known the brunet, however hard they'd driven each other, he'd never seen the man so worn. Even more disturbing was the fact that Squall hadn't even tried to hide it at first. The moment Squall had caught himself had been plain: the sudden tension and steely eyes. He'd felt sorry for the man.

Was that how Raijin and Fujin had looked at him after the war? With pity even though they knew he hated it?

He shook his head. Crossing the distance to the kitchen to get a glass of water, his eyes were drawn to the bedroom again, but he didn't catch sight of the brunet, nor could he hear any movement. Squall was most likely back in bed.

He'd let Squall rest for a while longer and get cleaned up in the meantime. Afterwards he'd play host and treat the Commander to a meal that would hopefully help get the man back on his feet. Checking his fridge, Seifer tried to recall what Squall had loaded onto his trays back at Garden, but he could only remember the standard blue plastic trays. _Useless. _He'd have to improvise.

Realizing how he was fussing over what to feed the grumpy icicle, he shook his head at himself and placed his glass in the sink. He should probably worry more about how to keep Squall entertained without them tearing each other's heads off. That, and getting a shower.

As he stepped into the bedroom, his eyes immediately settled on the lone form by the window, his guest not asleep but watching the outside world with vacant eyes. Seifer knew the view well; the far drop to the street below and the rundown skyscraper across the street—a far from special view. _Lost in his own head again. _

Back at Garden he'd often witnessed the brunet like that—a distant gaze and a near complete lack of movement or expression. Occasionally he'd let the brunet be, but most of the time he'd pulled the brunet right out of his musings and demanded attention instead. This time he'd give Squall until he got back out of the shower.

He huffed. The atmosphere hadn't been top notch so far, but that wasn't all that different from their cadet days. He hadn't given two fucks about whether he'd been a pain in the ass back then and he wouldn't care now either, but it was obvious the Commander needed some downtime.

Ignoring the mess in his bathroom, he reached into the shower to turn on the faucet. Under the hot spray of water, he wondered how the hell one would go about making the ice prince comfortable. For all he knew, the concept didn't even exist in the brunet's world. He couldn't even recall ever seeing the guy happy, until a recent memory emerged. He _had_ witnessed Squall relaxed and happy, and fuck it if it hadn't been the sexiest sight he'd ever seen.

Cursing, he forced that night away from memory and tried to consider Squall happy under any other circumstances—without the aid of drugs. He'd been able to picture it after the war, back when he'd seen Balamb Garden cross Timber's skyline. He'd already heard about Squall and Rinoa by then, and the first stories about the valiant Commander had started to surface. He'd never once felt envious—the brunet deserved a happy ending like that.

But now... Seeing how things had ended between Squall and Rinoa, it seemed the man had a knack for going from one shitty situation to another.

Grabbing the shower gel, Seifer began lathering himself up. He couldn't blame Squall for being the same old ice prick he'd grown up with. Things hadn't gone well for him. Maybe the brunet was just doomed to early frown lines.

With a big dollop of shampoo in his palm, he kneaded the thick gel into his hair, closing his eyes. All this thinking wasn't doing him any good. He'd always been a man of action, not brooding, and the most pressing issue was how to keep from driving one another mad-never mind Squall's _comfort_.

Maybe weapons were the answer. The night Squall had followed him home, the weapon parts on his work desk had immediately drawn the brunet's attention. Also, the man still kept Revolver close by at all times, even when he had a new and far superior gunblade to wield. They still had their love of gunblades in common.

He arched his head backwards and rinsed the remaining shampoo from his hair. The only times he could remember Squall ever being at ease in his company had been after their training sessions. Sparring had always taken the edge off when the tension between them had become too much, but they could hardly spar with Squall's current condition, and any other ideas on how to improve Squall's mood would probably get his head chopped off. There really wasn't any way Squall would accept Avalanche a second time around.

Smirking slightly at the thought, forgetting the amount of shit that evening had landed him in, Seifer froze and did a double-take. He'd just spent a good five minutes lost to thought—all on how to make Squall feel at home. Snorting out loud, he turned up the stream of water along with the heat and turned his head directly into the spray.

Apparently he cared a great deal about what Squall thought of him and that had to change. If confinement in his apartment or lack of entertainment made the man crabby, tough luck. As Squall had so keenly pointed out, he wasn't the man's babysitter. And hell, if his attraction made Squall uncomfortable, screw that too. He wasn't about to hold back for _anyone_.

Getting out of the shower, he dried himself off with brisk moves. He'd treat the guy the way he always had—tease him and drive him up the wall. Sending himself the beginnings of a smirk in the mirror, he quickly got dressed and prepared himself for some fun. He left the bathroom in a much better mood than he'd entered it.

Squall was still in the same position by the window, still lost to thought. Seifer would get to honor their old ritual after all. His smirk grew as he walked over to stand near the brunet.

"I must say I miss the belts," he drawled, winking at the brunet. When Squall didn't acknowledge his presence with more than an annoyed twitch of his brow, Seifer turned to look outside as well. The gust of wind that met his arms was cold enough to line his skin with goose bumps in spite of the bright sun outside.

"Watch it, Squall, you might get lost in there," he said, remembering all the times he'd spoken those exact words to the brunet in the past. They had always been a prelude to something more; his way of announcing to Squall that he was getting the brunet's attention whether the man wanted to give it to him or not. This time it earned him the beginnings of a scowl.

"I forgot how much _fun_ it is to talk to you," he continued with a huff. "Come on, gimme a good glare for old times' sake."

Getting exactly what he'd asked for, Seifer smirked. "There's a good boy."

Forcing his reflexive response into submission, Squall smoothed out his expression and reaffixed his gaze on the outside view, but it was pointless. He'd lost his calm, along with his numb state of mind. He hated how the man could do that.

"Fucking hell, it's cold," Seifer cursed, trying desperately to gain back some of the earlier warmth to his skin. Glancing at Squall's bare arms, he narrowed his eyes. He'd only been standing by the open window for a little while and already it felt like his skin was about to fall off—Squall had been there for Hyne knew how long.

Ignoring the man's carelessness, he fixed his eyes on the two gunblade cases at the other end of the room. "Mind if I take a look at your new blade?"

At the first words that weren't aimed to test his patience, Squall shifted his position by the window sill to regard the blond. Wondering what the weapon smith in Seifer would make of his blade, he nodded his permission.

Smiling to himself, Seifer lifted the unfamiliar case onto the bed. He had an idea of what lay inside: the blue blade Squall had wielded in the battles that ended the war. Undoing the latches, he opened the case, a soft blue glow spilling out. Running his fingers across the translucent material, he gently lifted the blade out of its casing. The weight felt good in his hands, definitely on the heavy side, but not as heavy as most two-handers.

"Does it have a name?" he asked, turning the blade in his hands as he studied its curves and edges.

"Lion Heart," Squall replied as he scrutinized Seifer's every move, the sight of his blade in the hands of someone else kindling a reflexive dislike.

Chuckling, Seifer couldn't let the opportunity pass by. "Really, _Leonhart_?" he asked as he cast a glance over his shoulder to watch Squall's reaction. Already he'd managed to coax a frown from the man. "Ten points for originality."

"The blacksmith named it," Squall supplied dryly, not remembering the old and enthusiastic Shumi with any fondness.

"—after you," Seifer pointed out with a big grin.

Glaring, Squall felt vindictive as he remembered how Seifer had read up on Centran mythology, in pursuit of a sufficiently _worthy_ name for his first weapon. "At least I didn't spend a month deciding which _god_ to name it after." The slight freeze in the blond's expression immediately alerted him. "...What's your new blade called?"

Gritting his teeth, Seifer was just about to supply his answer when Squall raised a pointed eyebrow, the brunet clearly assuming he'd already won.

"Kronos," he answered offhandedly, his mind racing on how to gain the upper hand again, but he was immediately sidetracked when catching sight of the twitch to Squall's lips. It had been years since he'd seen it, but he recognized it well enough.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up Princess, try and pretend you're not jealous," he said, nearly smiling as well. "Just listen," he added as he held Squall's gaze, pausing for added effect. "_Hyperion_," he said, letting the name hang in the air between them. "_Kronos_," he added in a low voice.

"Sexy, huh?" he said with a playful wag of his eyebrows, when Squall just stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. "Reeks of power just like yours truly."

Rolling his eyes at Seifer's absurdity, Squall fought the quirk of his lips back into submission, but secretly he was relieved. They still tried to one-up each other whichever way possible, and the arrogant bastard still named his blades after gods. It was a foolish thing to draw hope from, but he let the feeling suffuse him as he watched Seifer return his attention to the blade and turn the handle a few times with quick dexterity. Squall's unease at handing over his blade all but disappeared, the man's touch and gaze respectful as he cataloged every detail.

Impressed by the mechanics and materials used, Seifer brought the handle closer to inspect the firing mechanisms. It was a cylinder model just like Revolver—no surprise there. Most fighters kept to upgrades or new versions of weapons they were already familiar with. Returning his attention to the blade itself, he ran a fingertip along the razor sharp edge.

"It looks and feels like Adamantine, but the glow... Pulse Ammo..." he paused, frowning. "The alloy shouldn't be this hard," he spoke lowly, testing the strength of the material. Translucent weapons were generally unheard of.

"Dragon Fangs," Squall provided from the sideline, impressed by the components Seifer already had managed to puzzle out. He could tell the make and smith of most gunblades himself, but alloys and forging crafts were beyond him.

"Dragon Fangs... bitches to get and bitches to meld," Seifer said thoughtfully, lost to the impeccable nature of the blade before him. What he wouldn't give to have a blade like that; a low burning red with cross swords etched deeply into the sides. "Impressive."

Unable to find the blacksmith's mark, he moved his fingers back to fiddle with the cylinder release latch, studying it as he released and closed it a couple of times. "I could upgrade this for you if you want. It'll make it faster."

Snapping out of his study of the blond, Squall considered the offer. He hadn't had Lion Heart remodeled since the war, hadn't even heard of any new upgrades on the market. Moving from his perch by the window, he stepped closer to inspect where Seifer's fingers were fiddling with the cylinder and then he caught up.

"Your own customization?"

"Yeah," Seifer replied, looking back up at Squall. "I've designed it so the wielder doesn't have to reposition their hold on the gun to release the latch. The friction of the latch is slightly better as well. It's a quick fix."

Squall quirked an eyebrow at the explanation. He'd never really considered the small latch move—a small margin for improvement, but in battle even a fraction of a second could make all the difference. He nodded his assent.

Satisfied that Squall trusted him enough to let him upgrade the man's gunblade, Seifer thrust the blade out in front of him, testing its aerodynamics. "I'll do it after work tonight," he said, eager to add his own touch to the weapon. He cut through the air again and stretched his arm out in front of him—his trademark fighting stance.

"As soon as you're better, we're going to have to spar," he said, performing a sideways cut. "Like old times," he added with a smirk.

Not having expected the suggestion, especially so soon after being judged an invalid, Squall found himself nodding. He'd made his peace with never seeing this man on the other end of a friendly spar again, but now... It was _exactly_ what he wanted, offered so easily.

At the prospect of getting to kick Squall's ass, Seifer couldn't contain his excitement. He hadn't felt this eager in ages. Squall had better get back to normal soon so they could get started. Returning Lion Heart to its case, he placed it back on the floor to rest next to Revolver and flopped onto the bed. He propped himself up on his elbows.

"So... what do you want to do?" he prompted. "I'm all yours for a couple of hours," he added with a lazy smile, feeling the all too familiar urge to tease the brunet."You could always give me a striptease. Show off that fine ass of yours," he joked as he let his eyes roam Squall's body in blatant appreciation.

Growing rigid, Squall was too blindsided by the offhand remark to decide on a reaction. Looking away with an involuntary frown, he hated how Seifer had managed to get him this self-conscious with _one_ comment.

"Yeah. Thought not..." Seifer said, feigning disappointment, but immediately failed as a big grin grew on his lips. He loved making Squall uncomfortable, and by the look of things, he'd just hit the jackpot. "Well, I don't really have much stuff around here for entertainment. Like I told you, I'm not really here much. We could talk, I guess, but then again, you've never been much of a conversationalist, have you, Princess?"

Scowling at the immediate change from lewdness to mocking insult, Squall stared at Seifer incredulously. The asshole was toying with him, he _knew_ that, but the man was hitting new lows.

Watching as Squall's expression changed from confusion to annoyance, Seifer almost reconsidered what he was about to say. Almost. "The words not coming to you, Love?" he asked, wearing a shit-eating grin.

"You think this is funny?" Squall demanded harshly, the saccharine pet name leaving a particularly bad taste.

"Kinda, yeah," Seifer supplied easily, having a blast.

"...Kinda," Squall echoed in deadpan, his fingers curling into tight fists. "Don't joke about shit like that. And don't call me _Love_."

"Sure thing, Sunshine," Seifer said, fighting his grin to adopt a more serious expression. "Whatever you say." His lips twitched in spite of himself. "So about that striptease...?" he asked, breaking into a shameless lopsided smirk.

Squall's heart rate spiked dangerously with the effort to restrain himself. His choices effectively reduced to either punching the bastard or leaving the room, he only barely managed to turn on his heels and stride out of the door.

Rolling his eyes, Seifer threw his head back against the bed. Squall was so fucking sensitive.

After a push up from the bed, he walked over and closed the window. He'd leave for work as soon as possible and leave Squall to his own crappy company. He'd leave right away if it wasn't for the hungry grumbling of his stomach. He'd make some pasta and his favorite sauce—should be enough to keep the grumpy icicle alive for now as well.

Crossing the threshold to the living room, he stole a glance at where Squall was sitting on the couch. The brunet still looked pissy as hell, and he just _knew_ things would get out of hand if they started talking.

Startled from his thoughts, Squall looked up to see Seifer round the kitchen counter. Not acknowledging him even once, the blond opened the fridge and started getting out groceries.

Irked by the silent treatment that had been _his_ plan, Squall followed Seifer's moves from the safety of the couch. He scowled. Already, within the span of a few minutes, the bastard had brought him very close to reconsidering his resolution to stay. He couldn't quite believe the idiot had added what happened between them to his arsenal of insults.

_Striptease_. His scowl deepened as the hated word kept popping up in his thoughts. Sex with him had been inconsequential enough for the blond to use it as a source of inspiration. _Just a joke_.

Next time the man joked like that, he'd go for the option he'd foregone—the man only ever seemed to understand punches anyway. It probably wouldn't do much to actually deter the man, but at least it would be more satisfying than quietly seething while the bastard turned his back to him to do something as mundane as _cooking_.

As he took in the scene that was unfolding before him, his scowl wavered. It seemed like Seifer was indeed _actually _cooking now that he paid notice; the kind that didn't involve microwaves or instant meals. A pile of diced vegetables already lay stacked on the side—when had that happened?—and now Seifer was setting two pots on the stove, turning the gas valve underneath one of them alight. Soon after a loud sizzling followed as the man poured a liberal amount of oil into the heated pot, the sound joining in with the soft whir of the range hood. His eyebrows climbed higher in spite of himself.

The sounds of clinking kitchenware and the first scents wafting from the kitchen reminded him of watching Matron cook as a child. It was the only other time he could remember having watched anyone preparing food. A life of canteen food hadn't engendered a particularly developed taste palette in him, and after that, his and Rinoa's ineptitude at cooking had led to mostly take-out and restaurants.

And just like that, it was nearly impossible to stay angry. His eyes were glued to the odd scene, following the seemingly random sprinkling of herbs, the adept stirs and test tastes, the fiddling with gas settings. His lips quirked when the illusion was partly interrupted by a curse when the blond burnt his finger on the stove.

When what he assumed to be sauce was gently simmering and a bowl of salad was placed on the kitchen counter, Squall realized Seifer had stopped moving about and was looking his way.

"Hungry?" the blond asked, looking slightly bemused at the close scrutiny.

Squall blinked and answered belatedly, "Somewhat."

"Good," Seifer said, leaning back against the kitchen counter, waiting to see if Squall would make a comment about what had happened in the bedroom. The scowl from earlier was gone from the brunet's brow, but he was never quite sure what went on inside that head.

"Anything you want me to get when I head in for work later? Some magazines or something?" he asked, pushing away from the counter. "I'd go crazy if I had to stay here all day."

"No," Squall replied with a frown, the blond's suggestion reminding him of his predicament. He probably _would_ go crazy.

"Hn. Well, feel free to read any of my books."

When Squall didn't say anything in reply, Seifer returned his attention to the food. The sauce was almost ready. Filling two tall glasses with water, he set them down on the coffee table along with the salad bowls. After one last taste of the sauce_—perfect—_he ladled out two big servings and joined Squall by the coffee table.

Eyeing the food set in front of him, Squall hesitated only briefly before placing the plate on his lap. Knowing Seifer, the blond wouldn't actually present him with something that might damage the man's inflated ego. Sampling the brightly colored sauce and pasta, he couldn't deny it tasted great.

"Who'd have thought I'd ever be making you lunch?" Seifer mused. His lips curled into the beginnings of a smirk. "Or spoon feed you yogurt for that matter..."

Fork freezing midair, it was a moment before Squall looked Seifer's way. "...What?"

"I'm just saying it's a bit surreal is all," Seifer said, his lips curling upwards.

Realizing this wasn't another of the blond's bad jokes, Squall lowered his fork to his plate and tried to keep his mortification from his face. _He dressed you as well_, his mind added unhelpfully.

"It was last night. You were really out of it. Probably hadn't eaten in days," Seifer explained, his expression falling at the memory.

At the annoyingly reasonable explanation, Squall poked his fork around in the steaming plate of pasta, the food temporarily forgotten. He couldn't remember any of it.

Seifer took a sip of his water as he took in Squall's unfocused gaze, and then it hit him—he'd forgotten all about Rinoa. He hadn't even as much as messaged her to let her know Squall was awake again. "You should call Rinoa."

Reminded of all the missed calls and the voice mails he couldn't even bring himself to listen to, Squall wanted to ignore Seifer's words, his lips turning down at the corners. He was far from ready to hear her voice again, but he knew he couldn't avoid her forever. Giving a soft hum, he returned his attention to his meal, but his briefly kindled appetite had left him.

Seifer nodded at the reluctant agreement, glad enough to have gotten out of calling her himself. Chewing on the last bit of his meal, he got up from the couch and dumped his empty bowl in the sink. Squall hadn't even made a dent in his food yet. Frowning, Seifer grabbed the keys off the counter. Better to just leave the man to it.

"What's your number?" he asked, flipping open his cell phone.

Distracted, Squall set aside his unfinished plate and exchanged numbers with the blond, not bothering to start their discussion anew. If a simple phone number helped appease the man, then he wasn't about to burst the man's bubble. He needed to be alone.

He watched with impatience as Seifer gathered his things and reminded Squall of the leftovers in the fridge and the spare keys in the kitchen drawer. Halting at the front door, Lion Heart's case in hand, the blond almost looked reluctant. "I'm not sure when I'll be home. Probably late."

Giving the blond an indifferent look, the man cast a last cursory look around the room. "Call me if anything changes."

Seemingly satisfied with Squall's vague hum in reply, or perhaps sensing his mounting annoyance at the coddling attitude, the blond nodded and was out the door.

Now that Seifer was finally gone, taking any chance of distraction with him, Squall's headache made itself known again with ruthless, short stabs. Glancing at the corner of the kitchen counter, where the brown bag of medication sat innocently, he sighed and resigned himself to the aid of the painkillers at least. The silence in the apartment seemed loud as he made his way to the kitchen and fished out the pills that would hopefully dull the sensation.

The fridge hummed, the stream of water into his glass echoed sharply, and somewhere in a neighboring apartment someone had started up what sounded like a vacuum cleaner. All of it seemed to underline a sense of idleness, reminding him he wasn't in the field or on the job, but in the most dull of places.

Snorting at the reappearance of his fickle side, he refused to admit that perhaps having Seifer around to annoy him was better than his darkening thoughts. Quickly, he downed the painkillers with distaste and contemplated for the first time in his life whether another nap would make his day go by faster.

* * *

**[Seifer Almasy's Apartment, Zayin House, Wednesday, 22nd of October, 7:28 pm]**

With a grumbled complaint Squall leaned back from the far too bright screen of his laptop and rubbed at his eyes. He couldn't seem to focus, and his predicament had only worsened since he'd first sat down in the couch with the aim of getting some work done. With a sigh he moved his fingers to knead at the bridge of his nose, the headache that had only been dulled by the painkillers picking up in intensity again_._

_Useless pills_.

By now he could swear a high, almost indiscernible pitch was emanating from his laptop, the sound grating on his nerves and joining in with the gurgling of invisible pipes and the occasional drip and clang of the old radiators.

Fed up, he considered defeat. He'd given up on reading reports almost from the get go and had settled for working through his backlog of emails as best as his short attention span would allow instead. There had been a lot of them, those from Xu and Quistis consistently flagged as urgent. He'd only managed to skim through Quistis's emails. They'd initially discussed the meeting which was... little more than a week ago? It seemed like ages now. But the tone of her mails had quickly changed to suspicious concern. He usually never waited more than a day or two to get back to her, even when on leave.

He should type up a reply, but the moment he opened his eyes and glanced back at the screen, the bright blue light caused another merciless stab of pain behind his eyes. Holding down the power button, he closed the laptop with a quick move and pushed the damned thing off of his lap. The blissful absence of the high pitch whir made him sigh as he reclined further, his neck sore from sitting bent over his work.

With a frown he concluded he'd just have to call Quistis. He doubted it would do his migraine much good, but it needed to be done. He couldn't keep everything that had happened a secret, but maybe there was still a chance of censuring some of the facts. Seifer had been right, though—he needed to call Rinoa first.

Getting up, he groaned as the room started to spin for a few seconds. _Low blood pressure_, he told himself as he continued on to the bedroom. Finding his cell phone where he'd left it on the window sill, he ignored the alerts of several missed calls from Loire and dialed Rinoa's number before he could change his mind.

Only making it to one ring, the call was immediately picked up by a frantic Rinoa. "Squall! Is that you?!"

"...Yes," he replied evenly, dreading the coming conversation. The fact that she was already this upset to begin with didn't bode well.

"_Hyne_, I was so worried! Seifer didn't call... I—I didn't think you'd be conscious yet." Pausing her rush of words, she drew a long, tremulous breath. "...How are you feeling? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. I woke up this morning."

"This _morning_?" came the incredulous reply. "Squall, I've been worried sick! Why didn't anyone call me sooner?"

When he offered no immediate explanation, she continued angrily, "I specifically _asked_ him to keep me posted! He _what_—just conveniently _forgot_ about it?"

As Rinoa's heated words washed over him, Squall pinched the bridge of his nose and frowned. "Look, it doesn't matter. I'm calling you now," he stated calmly in an attempt to placate her, not about to confess he had been the one putting off the phone call.

"It doesn't matter?" Rinoa echoed feebly. Falling silent, she released a long sigh. "...In any case... I—I'm happy that you're up again, Squall," she said softly. "I wasn't sure what would happen... When we found you..."

"How _did _you find me?" Squall asked, having wondered about that very question several times that day.

"Seifer didn't tell?"

"...I didn't ask," he answered evasively. Pretty certain the full account of what happened wasn't going to be pleasant news, he'd decided the last thing he needed was to discuss the embarrassing incident with the blond. Having been spoon fed and dressed by the man was bad enough.

When Rinoa finally answered, her voice failed to mask her emotions. "Well... When you didn't answer any of my calls, I started to worry. I looked for you. When I couldn't find you anywhere, I thought that maybe... you'd be at Seifer's..." The faltering words were followed by an uncomfortable pause. "...I—I was able to find his address and went to see him. When I told him you were missing, he was really worried... You didn't tell him we were breaking the bond."

Not understanding the reason for the odd remark, Squall didn't see why it mattered. Whatever happened between Rinoa and himself was their business and theirs alone. Anything he had let slip to Seifer the night he'd followed the man home was solely because of the Avalanche. In no mood to discuss anything pertaining to Seifer with her, he remained silent, wordlessly urging her to continue.

"... Right," Rinoa muttered. "He offered to help immediately. A friend of his helped out as well. He—" Pausing briefly, she continued hesitantly. "His name is Calder. Apparently he works for the police. He helped us track you down through your cell phone signal. That's how we knew you were at the hotel." Another silence fell, before she asked quietly, "You didn't meet him?"

At the words that implied that he probably should have, Squall frowned. He'd only met one new person since waking up at Seifer's apartment and he hadn't been too impressed. "Briefly," he replied impassively, finally understanding the stranger's presence that morning.

"I see," the young woman stated quietly. "He's trustworthy, I think. Real nice too. He was a big help. If it weren't for him, you might still be in that hotel room," she offered, clearly waiting for a reply.

Immediately alerted by the use of the word "trustworthy," Squall's mood darkened. "He knows my identity?"

A deep sigh sounded in response to his disgruntled statement. "Don't worry about it, Squall. I'm telling you, he's a good guy," she said. "Seifer wouldn't have called him if he didn't trust him."

A disconcerting thought occurred to Squall at Rinoa's reassurance."Was he at the hotel? In the room?"

"_That_'s what you're worried about?" Rinoa blurted out. "We found you _unconscious_ on the bathroom floor, burning up with a fever and Shiva going haywire, but you worry about _who saw you_?!" The girl's voice cracked under her mounting distress. "Finding you like that... It was awful! Seifer had to carry you out of there... Why did you leave Odine's lab like that? Junctioning Shiva when you were in such a state. You're lucky we found you in time. I can't believe you. You're so... so _stupid_!"

Grimacing at the angry outburst and the precise details of how he was found, Squall didn't attempt to interject anything, more than accustomed to Rinoa venting her frustration with him. But when quiet sobs started to filter through the connection, he let a tired sigh escape. "...Rinoa."

"No. Don't," she whispered quietly, her voice uneven and thick. "I didn't want this to happen, Squall... Why couldn't you just say you needed help? ...I should have done something. Anything."

"It's not your fault. I just—I had to get out of there."

"If you hadn't run away like that, then maybe this could have been avoided," Rinoa commented.

"I'd feel so much more at ease, if you would just let Odine examine you."

"I'll think about it," Squall supplied evenly. A quiet sigh told him Rinoa had expected the evasive reply.

"So... How are things with Seifer?" Rinoa asked tentatively, her voice small.

"_Great_," Squall replied darkly, not having forgotten how Seifer had pointed out Rinoa as the mastermind behind his confinement in the blond's apartment.

"I only did it because I think this is for the best, Squall." When he didn't comment, the girl continued in a more pleading tone. "Just... Don't run off on your own again... Promise you'll stay put for now?"

Tired of being told what to do, Squall barely curbed the frank words he wanted to say. Unable to make any promises, he kept quiet.

"You _are _still at Seifer's, right?"

"I am," he replied, wondering why indeed he still was. His earlier plan didn't quite hold up under scrutiny and seemed far too naive.

"Don't be like that. He cares... And I know you do, too," Rinoa commented soberly, weariness entering her voice. "Hand me Seifer on the phone."

"...Why?" Squall asked, not exactly keen on having the two interact with each other any more than they already had.

"Because I'd like to have a few words with him," she answered levelly.

Well aware of the fact that Rinoa was just as stubborn as she believed him to be, Squall knew he was facing a losing battle. "He's at work," he said, hoping that would deter her.

"You're alone?!" Nearly inaudible mutters traveled across the connection. "_For Hyne's sake_... He _knows_ you shouldn't be alone right now!" Cutting herself short, the girl took a deep breath and Squall steeled himself. "If I call a cab, I can be there in about—"

"_No._"

"_Squall_."

He could easily imagine the hand placed on her hip, the way she usually did when she thought he was being crude or difficult. He sighed.

"I told you, I'm fine. There's no need for you to come over." His tone didn't leave any room for discussion.

"Impossible... the both of you... After this call, text me Seifer's number."

"If that's all," Squall answered tiredly, his patience waning.

"Wait! ...Just _wait_ a second. I still need to tell you some things before you go." Taking his silence as her cue, she continued cautiously—_too _cautiously. "I visited Laguna. I told him about our breakup and the bond."

Though not at all thrilled, Squall couldn't say the news came as much of a surprise with all the missed calls he'd spotted from the man earlier.

"Did you two talk already?"

"...No." He had been too tired to even consider braving a phone conversation with Loire.

"I know for a fact he must be trying to reach you. You should pick up when he calls you. He's just as worried as the rest of us." Pausing, she continued more hesitantly. "I've contacted B Garden as well, to explain the situation and arrange for sick leave... I told them you'd need some time to recover. Quistis assumed you're at Laguna's... I didn't correct her, but..."

"But what?"

"I didn't have any choice but to tell Laguna where you are. He was adamant about knowing who's taking care of you," she admitted apologetically. "You _know_ he's capable of using all of Esthar's resources to sweep the city in search of you... I made him promise not to show up unannounced. And he'll cover for you if Garden asks anything. I doubted you'd want them to know where you are... Unless you—"

"No," he interrupted immediately. Supposing an informed Loire was better than an informed Balamb Garden, he added more gently, "You made the right call."

"He'd do anything for you... Just pick up next time he calls, okay?" Rinoa replied softly.

"...I will."

"Then I guess all parties have been informed," Rinoa concluded.

A deep sigh escaped Squall at the statement. He would have preferred dealing with it on his own, so he could censure where necessary, but the damage had been done. At least Rinoa's intervention had bought him some time, sparing him from having to try and explain the entire mess to his friends and Loire right away.

"They would've found out eventually anyway..." Rinoa continued feebly, misunderstanding his prolonged silence.

"I know," he reassured. "...Thanks."

She didn't immediately reply and when she finally did, her voice was unsteady. "That's alright... Call me if you need me?"

He gave a soft hum of acknowledgement. "You, too."

"...I will." A quivering breath followed. "I'll keep in touch... Take care, Squall."

Uncomfortable with Rinoa's obvious distress and the heavy atmosphere, he was at a loss for what to say. Needing the conversation to end, he offered a soft "Goodbye" and disconnected the line. With a resigned sigh, he forwarded Seifer's number as she had demanded.

Placing his cell back onto the window sill, he looked down to watch the tremor of his fingers with a sense of detachment. His chest was tight, and the now familiar sensation of spinning rooms and weak legs had returned. He drew a tremulous breath and placed his hand onto the window frame for support, but it did nothing to alleviate the onset of... a panic attack?

He couldn't be sure, never having experienced one before, but it seemed textbook so far. Palpitations, trembling, shortness of breath, chest pain and dizziness. One by one, he ticked off the symptoms he'd once been taught at Garden, with a disconnect from reality that had been described as one of the symptoms as well.

_Breathe with the diaphragm_, he remembered, to stop hyperventilation, but all he managed was to half-lean, half-drop back against the window sill as bile rose in his throat. Debilitating nausea was all he registered, and any breathing techniques were instantly forgotten. He blinked, and then blinked again, as the room darkened.

Was the sun setting? No... It had done so at least an hour ago. He shook his head and forced himself to move towards the kitchen where his pills were. And water. In front of his every step forward, the floorboards seemed to narrow and widen, dancing out of his way. Had he turned off the light at some point? He couldn't remember.

Slumping against the door frame, he tried to catch his breath as he stared into the living area. Was he asleep? His thoughts seemed too clear, too sharp to belong to a dream. And the threatening aura of the room in front of him seemed very _real_.

All blood left his face as he watched the wild coiling of a thick layer of fog that occupied the entirety of the floor. It almost looked as if it was boiling—agitated and dangerous. He'd seen it like that before. Above the fog, a canopy of shades was creeping down the ceiling and walls, narrowing his world into stale, cold darkness.

_Breathe_, he reminded himself, but his breath wouldn't come. He couldn't find Griever, any of them—as if they'd never been there.

He startled when a high pitch rang through his ears. His laptop? _No_, he'd shut it off. The sound grew sharper and higher, until it drowned out all silence and sounds and pressed against his eardrums with such force that he nearly missed a clearance forming in the fog—a clearance that moved with the shape of footsteps, drawing steadily closer.

_It's not real_. He wrenched his eyes closed and tried to will the darkness away with sheer strength of mind. _Not real. Not real._

In his mind's eye however, he could calculate the speed of those steps and envision how they sought him out. The moment he knew they were upon him, a terrifying cold took hold of him and then... it passed through him.

With a gasp, he slumped to his knees and looked wildly around the spinning room, seeing nothing, nothing at all. The next moment Griever was with him, without him ever having made the conscious decision to call on the lion. A displeased growl was followed by uncertain silence, but he thought better of junctioning in the state he was in. The GF didn't like it one bit.

"Stay... For now, stay."

Griever obeyed and immediately took up a protecting presence in his mind. The lion was reassuring in his immovable quality, and Squall allowed himself to drop his guard enough to calm down and catch his breath. _Not real_, he repeated to himself.

Sliding into a seated position, he leaned his head back against the door frame and pressed his hands together. His head felt like bursting, the migraine sharp and relentless, but at least it was better than what had just happened. Looking up at the plain, white ceiling, the dark shades gone now, he drew in a long breath through his nose and let the safe feel of reality sink in. _He wasn't alone_.

Griever gave his mind a gentle nudge as if to confirm the stray thought. That made Squall frown—he had to be in a bad state for the usually brutish GF to resort to kindness. It was hard to shake the feeling Time Compression stirred in him, however loathe he was to admit how it affected him. Beneath the stark fear, there was something far worse that had haunted his every lost step whilst trapped there—utter and complete _loneliness._

Snorting at himself, the sound coming out more shakily than intended, he steered away from the pointless psychoanalysis and instead considered what was happening to him. Somehow it had to be a consequence of the broken bond and it had happened twice now—though the episode in the shower had been far milder.

Hallucinations, then. Griever seemed concerned but not particularly alarmed at any _real_ possible threat. It all had to be in his head. Also, whenever it happened he seemed to be unable to reach his GFs and junction them, which was probably the most worrisome part of all.

When a ring tone cut through the silence, he slowly pushed himself upright. He peered into the bedroom, discouraged by the distance to his phone, but Seifer had said he might call. He groaned—the blond couldn't have picked a worse time.

Raising himself the rest of the way, he unsteadily moved to his cell and picked up just in time.

"...Seifer," he answered, forgetting for a crucial second he hadn't actually checked the display. Holding his breath, he prayed it wasn't Quistis on the other end.

"You okay?" the blond demanded.

Thanking Hyne, he let out a long sigh. "I'm _fine_," he replied, not even trying to sound like his usual self. He wouldn't pull it off.

"You sound tired."

At the obvious observation, Squall let out a noncommittal hum.

The line went silent as his non-reply was mulled over."...I'll leave you to rest then. I'll phone again later," the man said with more concern than Squall liked to hear. "Have you taken your meds?"

"...Not yet," he answered, realizing he might need those pills more than he thought. "I will after this."

"Okay," Seifer agreed, sounding frustrated. "I'll talk to you later."

When the line went dead, Squall cursed inwardly. That hadn't gone well. Hopefully Seifer hadn't read too much into his meek replies. About to set his phone aside, he spotted another missed call alert.

_Seifer_. _7:49pm_.

Only minutes ago. And then he realized—the high pitch that had assaulted his ears. Ever since coming to, he'd been sensitive to sound, mostly when tired. All the little sounds that had been too sharp, too distorted and aggravating, were shed into a new light. Another symptom.

Pocketing the phone, he straightened and walked back into the living area, listening out for anything out of the ordinary. His footsteps echoed dully, and he tried to remember if small things had always been this loud. In the back of his mind, he could sense Griever's concern mounting. "It's fine," he said and glanced at the bag of medication, indicating them to the lion. "Those will help."

Steered to the kitchen by the GF's adamancy, he pulled the bag open and lifted out the jars with meaningless labels. Sticking to the guidelines for once, he quickly downed far too many pills.

Dragging a hand over his eyes, he shuffled to the couch and lay down on his back. When he closed them, the world danced with a maddening spin, tugging harshly at nausea. When he opened them, the ceiling became a living thing, the many spots and imperfections migrating and warping.

He should be more panicked he realized, but he was too... exhausted. The push and pull of his headache made it near impossible to manage sleep, but eventually he was carried along a restless tapestry of moving images and fog, moments of wakefulness never far off—as if he was being pushed under dark water. He'd briefly emerge from time to time and stare at the bland ceiling again. At least the pills seemed to do their work as the edge was taken off his migraine, lights and sounds less harsh than before.

But his attempt at rest didn't last long, interrupted by a loud banging that startled him upright. He blinked, willing his spiking heart rate to settle down. A second bang sounded, which he finally recognized as a knock on the front door.

Shaking his head, he tried to collect himself and slowly pushed himself to his legs. He stared at the door and wondered whether he'd imagined the knocks. More than anything, he just wanted to ignore them and lie back down, but he grew uneasy, not knowing what was real and what wasn't.

With a frown he unsteadily walked up to the door. His hand lingered in indecision over the door handle and for a moment he feared there'd be no one there—just the emptiness that had assaulted him in the hallucination.

Quickly, he pulled the door open and stared at the man in the hallway, his brow wrinkling into a frown as he realized who it was.

"Hey, erm... Sorry if I woke you," the tall man said, looking uncomfortable. Squall almost considered just closing the door then and there. He was not in the mood to deal with Seifer's friends—let alone _this_ one.

"I'm Calder," the man introduced himself, holding out his hand in greeting. "I thought Seifer would be in."

Not releasing his support on the door frame to shake the man's hand, Squall hoped he didn't look as bad as he felt and fought to keep his expression impassive. He couldn't care less about the slight narrowing to the man's eyes when he didn't follow proper social cues.

"He won't be back until late."

That brought a surprised look to the man's face. "Did he go to work?"

"Yes," Squall replied curtly, needing to be rid of the man. A new tremor had started in the hand he had placed behind the door, out of sight. An upward tug appeared at the corner of Calder's lips, the man seemingly amused for reasons that eluded him.

"Arc must've really been on his case then."

When the man paused, perhaps expecting elaboration, Squall just waited for him to continue speaking or leave.

"...I'm sorry about earlier. It really wasn't my place," the man said as Squall found himself scrutinized. He only half paid attention to what the man was saying, when simply maintaining his composure was demanding all of his energy.

"He's just so dense sometimes," Calder continued, unaware. "He tends to come across like an asshole, but he means well."

Blinking, Squall realized Calder was talking about Seifer, and judging by his expectant gaze, the man was waiting for some kind of feedback. Squall just made his silence louder, his posture rigid as he tried not to betray the tremor now moving onto his legs as well.

"Hey, are you okay?" Calder asked, furrowing his brow.

"I'm fine," Squall dissuaded quickly. The fact that a stranger could see through his façade was alarming.

"No offense... but you don't look it," Calder said. "Maybe I should come inside?"

Having had enough babysitting for one day, Squall bristled. "No," he bit out evenly. "Like I said, Seifer won't be back until late." Unable to feign composure any longer, he shut the door in the man's face.

"Hey... I only wanted to help," Calder's voice sounded through the door.

Squall ignored the man and waited until he could hear footsteps disappearing down the hallway. Leaning back against the door, his mask shattered. Raising his hands in front of him, he watched the mild but persistent tremble and finally started to feel the panic he'd been waiting for. The pills had already stopped working and he'd only just taken them. Hyne, he didn't want Seifer to see him like this.

Needing to know how long he had before the blond might return, he fumbled for his cell and glanced at the screen to check the time. His brow furrowed.

...That couldn't be right. He _couldn't_ have been resting for more than half an hour, but the display announced brightly and impossibly that somehow it was already 11:04 pm. He had _not_ been lying on that couch for over three hours.

Snapping his phone closed, he stared ahead, his trembling arms dropping to his side.

What was happening to him?

* * *

**[Outside Arc Balios' Weapon Shop, Wednesday, 22nd of October, 11:32 pm]**

The dull thud of the car door resounded in the quiet night. The sun had disappeared hours ago and there weren't many lights in this part of town. Walking down the gravelly path that led to the courtyard attached to Arc's workshop, Calder steeled himself. Seifer still hadn't replied to any of his texts, four so far since that morning, even though Calder had apologized and pretty much begged for a call. He'd been lucky to have escaped the blond's apartment with only a few bruises and a split lip.

Nolan had wanted all the details—had asked about the scab the moment he'd stepped into their parents' home. He'd made the mistake of avoiding an answer, and not a minute after they'd sat down for dinner, Nolan had repeated his question. He'd lied in the end, making up a story of interrupting a robbery on the streets earlier that day. His parents didn't need to know about his friend's temper issue.

And still... here he was, groveling for forgiveness.

At some point during the afternoon he'd realized that maybe he'd overstepped his boundaries—however well-meant. Seifer had told him about Squall and Seifer's past, but nothing in-depth, and it was obvious there was a lot of history there. Maybe it hadn't been his place to interfere after all. He just didn't understand why Seifer didn't want Squall to know how much he meant to the blond. Their behavior around each other had been ridiculous. Almost as ridiculous as Seifer leaving Squall on his own when the brunet still looked like he might collapse at any given moment.

He shook his head. He still had trouble connecting the name "Squall Leonhart" and the title of SeeD Commander to the slight man in Seifer's apartment. The brunet looked _nothing_ like he'd come to expect from the stories, nor did the man behave like he'd imagined, so he'd ended up just referring to him as "Squall" in his thoughts—one of Seifer's friends. That made things easier.

The door creaked as Calder let himself in through Arc's back door, the old floorboards joining in on the complaint as he made his way through the kitchen. The light in the room was already turned off, the old weapon smith most likely in bed. Bright, yellow light had spilled out into the courtyard from the workshop though, along with the sounds of someone working at the anvil.

Pushing the door open, he was greeted by the heat of the workshop. Seifer's gaze lifted only briefly from the dagger he was working on. The smell was strong: smoke, metal, and grease. He'd never quite gotten used to it—not even after the number of nights Seifer had come over for some fun with the same smells still clinging to his skin.

The blond's focus had returned to where sparks sprang from heated metal upon impact with the hammer. His expression hadn't' changed. Calder was being thoroughly ignored, which meant no forgiveness yet.

"Oh come on, Seifer, it wasn't that bad." Calder said, suppressing an eyeroll at the glare Seifer sent his way. "You were both behaving like idiots."

"You were the asshole as far as I remember," Seifer said with a sour expression.

"I was an idiot too, yeah," Calder admitted with a shrug. "That's why I came here to apologize and why I sent those messages."

Seifer huffed. "Great fucking start."

"It was wrong of me, all right?" Calder said contritely. Maybe his opening line hadn't been the greatest, but he just hadn't been able to help himself with Seifer so childishly giving him the cold shoulder. "Even though I still think you're both idiots for the way you were behaving, it wasn't my place to say anything. I _know _that."

Narrowing his eyes, Seifer didn't give Calder the satisfaction of a comment.

"I already apologized to Squall."

That immediately caught Seifer's attention. He didn't like the thought of Calder interacting with Squall at all. "...Just what the hell did you say to him?"

"Don't worry, it didn't last more than a couple of seconds—he shut the door in my face."

Seifer didn't bother hiding his vindictive amusement, a slight twitch curling his lips. At least Squall appeared to be getting back to his old self.

Catching the budding smirk, Calder almost regretted having to break the rest of the news about his visit. "He didn't look well." Seifer looked at him but didn't say anything, the smirk already gone. "I was going to stay there for a while to help him out and make sure he was okay, but he wouldn't even let me in."

"Good," Seifer said, but he looked none too happy. "I don't want to imagine what other stupid ass things you could've said."

Calder sighed. "I just wanted to get to know him a bit and help him out. He looked like shit."

That brought a frown to Seifer's brow. "... But he was standing up?"

"Barely."

"Hmph," Seifer let out. Squall had looked like shit when he'd left earlier that day as well and had barely been able to walk. Hopefully the brunet hadn't changed for the worse. "He didn't say anything?"

"Only that you'd gone to work and that you'd be home late."

Apparently satisfied by the answer, Seifer returned his attention to his work. Calder walked a bit closer, feeling like things had finally settled a bit between them.

"How much have you got left?" he asked, watching as Seifer heated the dagger and returned to the anvil.

"Just have to finish this fucking dagger," Seifer said, eyeing the blade in contempt. "And make an adjustment to his blade." He indicated Lion Heart's case on the worktable. "I'm fixing the release latch. Like I did on yours."

Calder nodded. "Can I take a look at it?"

"Not if you want to keep your head."

After what little he'd experienced of the Commander, Calder no longer doubted the statement. "You know... how can someone who doesn't even shake hands end up a Commander?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "I thought you'd have to have certain ways with diplomacy to get that far."

That brought the smirk back on Seifer's lips. "You've never seen him with a blade."

"That good?" Calder asked, taking a step closer.

"The best fucking fighter on the planet."

Surprised to hear the words leaving Seifer's mouth, Calder realized his brother wasn't the only one with a hero worship complex. "You really think so?"

"I've never seen anyone handle a blade like him or use magic like him. A million times quicker than anyone else and absolutely relentless. During the war he could go on for hours when others gave up within minutes. He doesn't have to _play nice_."

Still half in shock from hearing Seifer speak with such clear admiration for anyone other than himself, Calder finally caught up with what exactly the blond had said. "...Which war?" he asked, unable to imagine Seifer having fought in one. When Seifer didn't answer, he thought back to rumors about the Commander and could only reach one conclusion. "The Galbadian Civil War?"

The blonde didn't answer and instead looked down to the blade he was working on. The man looked serious, his posture alerting Calder that something was up. "It wasn't the Civil War?"

"No," Seifer said in a low voice.

Racking his brain as he tried to remember other wars, Calder couldn't think of any. The only disturbances he remembered around that time was when monsters had fallen from the sky and later, Timber's liberation—nothing even close to resembling a war. "I don't know of any other wars."

Recalling the grim and foreboding expression Seifer had worn the night before when he had talked about leaving Garden and being a knight, Calder frowned. "Was a sorceress involved?"

This time he didn't even get a reply and the tension between them got thicker by the second. He'd definitely hit a sore topic, but it was also too big for him to just look past and leave alone. In the span of two days he'd realized just how much the public had been misled and misinformed. Or perhaps just not informed at all. How could a _war_have gone on—with a sorceress no less—without the citizens of Esthar even being aware of it?

Briefly, Seifer's gaze met his, making it clear to leave the topic alone. Clenching his jaw, wanting to demand answers to make sense of it all and to understand just how far the conspiracy went, he curbed all his questions. He had the means of looking into it himself. Being a member of the Estharian police force had its perks. If any of what Seifer had told him was true, then there would be trails to follow. There'd be mistakes he could pick up on and information he could piece together. He wanted the truth, most of all about what had happened to Seifer.

He'd thought he'd known all there was to know about the man, but what he'd seen these past couple of days had shocked him. He'd rarely seen such care and devotion displayed by anyone, let alone Seifer. The way the blond's attention had singled in on one person, without even straying once, had seriously caught him off guard. When he'd been lying in bed the night before, considering it all, the realization had hit him hard: if Seifer had ever focused that kind of attention on him, he might actually have considered a relationship with the man. But Calder had never felt even a hint of what he'd seen Seifer do for Squall in the time they'd known each other. That was one of the main reasons why he'd interfered that morning. He didn't want Squall to only see Seifer's harsh, uncaring front, when in reality the blond was ready to do anything to make sure the brunet was okay.

Lifting his gaze from where it had dropped to a rifle, he took in the Seifer's grim expression and remembered why he'd come there in the first place. He needed to set things right.

"Look. I really am sorry about this morning," he said softly. "I just thought he deserved to know that you care about him and that you don't mind him staying at your apartment... If it was me, I would've liked to know."

Seifer frowned, annoyed Calder was returning to that topic. "Why? What the fuck difference does it make?"

With a sigh of exasperation, Calder underlined his explanation with heavy gestures. "It makes all the difference. If you'd treated me like you've treated him... things could've been different. It wouldn't just have been about sex."

Seifer met his stare head on. "Who said I wanted anything else?"

"You don't," Calder immediately agreed. "Not from me."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Seifer asked, his voice growing louder.

"You know what it means," Calder replied without much fire himself.

"Fuck, you're getting on my nerves," the blond bit out.

"For speaking the truth?"

Seifer put down the dagger and turned to face Calder fully. "And just what truth is that?"

"That you've got some longstanding unreciprocated feelings for the Commander," he said, finally calling things exactly as he saw them. "That you'd do anything for him."

"You don't know a Hyne-damned thing," Seifer said, dismissing Calder's words and turning his attention back to the weapon he was working on. He hit it hard with his hammer.

"I know you blamed yourself for the two of you ending up in bed together and I know things sounded less than pleasant between the two of you this morning. You were putting on a show for him, trying to protect yourself."

"Fuck off."

Calder took a deep breath to try and calm himself. "I've been there for you these last couple of days and helped you in whatever way I've been able to. But watch it, Seifer. If you keep this up, I'm not going to stick around."

"Because I'm not giving you any cock anymore?" the blond said spitefully.

Calder rolled his eyes at Seifer's crudeness. "I don't care about that. Well, I do, but that's not what's important. What's important is that we're friends." He paused to let the words sink in. "At least I thought so." He tapped his fingers on the worktable as he waited for the blond to respond.

Seifer didn't look at him when he finally spoke, the blond's eyes on the dagger in his hands. "We are."

Feeling some of the tension leaving his shoulders, Calder knew things would turn out all right between them. What Seifer had just said was the closest thing the man would ever come to an apology.

"Look, I'll lay low for a bit. I know you've got your hands full at the moment. And like I said, it isn't my place to interfere." He'd learned his lesson. "I'd still like to get to know him though—he's your friend and I'm yours... We'll see, huh?" When no answer seemed forthcoming, he walked over to the door. "Give me a call if you want a spar. I sure could do with one."

The blond still hadn't looked up, but finally replied. "I'll call."

"Okay then," Calder said and nodded in parting. "I'll see you around."

Glancing over at the now shut door, Seifer wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. He was still pissed at Calder, especially for that fucking ridiculous line of his. The man had some fucking nerve to pretend he knew _anything_ about his and Squall's relationship. Unreciprocated fucking feelings and wanting more from Squall than just sex? So what if he was fucking treating a guy with a bit more respect and didn't _just_ think about sticking his cock up the man's ass—Squall had _earned_that respect. Not like anyone else had.

Grumbling, he tried to steer his mind back onto the work in front of him. He needed to get the designs punched into this dagger and then—

Cursing, he remembered another task and strode into the back room of the workshop where they kept another furnace going for melting metal. Arc would hand him his ass if he forgot to cast the gun parts. Grabbing one of the ladles, he filled it with the liquid metal before pouring it into the molds. He'd have to hurry with the dagger in the other room almost prime for punching, but he should have done the gun casts hours ago. The metal would barely have time to harden and set properly for when Arc needed the parts. He grimaced.

Finishing up quickly, he strode back into the main room and put his gloves on before grabbing the dagger with the tongs and placing it on the anvil. He didn't have time for this. Not after what Calder had told him about Squall's condition. The phone call he'd promised the brunet earlier was already way overdue.

With his attention slipping more and more, he placed the dagger on the worktop. Screw proper heating and cooling techniques, he _needed _to know things were okay with Squall and only then would he be able to deal with his work—or blow everything off instead, depending on how the call went.

Getting out his phone, he quickly navigated to "Pussyheart" and pressed the button. Each ring lasted an eternity. By the time the call was picked up he was already fiddling with his car keys.

"...Hm?" A tired hum sounded from the other end.

"You in bed?" Seifer asked, immediately frowning.

Squall mumbled his reply. "...The couch."

"Go to bed," Seifer ordered.

"I'm fine with the couch," Squall answered, the haze of sleep disappearing little by little from the man's voice.

"Get your ass to bed _now_—or I'll come put you there myself." He had every intention of following up on his words if Squall decided to be difficult. He might've been too angry to reply to Rinoa's earlier text, chewing him out, but she'd been right—he shouldn't have left Squall on his own just yet.

He heard Squall sigh, but didn't get a reply.

"I'm not hearing you moving yet."

A long silence stretched on, but then Squall muttered a clipped "_fine._" Soon Seifer could make out the shifting of fabric and a sleepy groan. Then came slow footsteps—far too slow for his liking—followed by the sound of the springs of his bed complaining as Squall sat down. He could hear the blankets being rearranged. Finally, everything went quiet, Squall's soft breathing the only sound remaining.

"Sweet dreams, Princess," he said with a small smile on his lips as the image of Squall nodding off in his bed played in his mind. At least Squall would be all right for now. He hung up and let out a sigh. He still had hours to go, especially if he wanted to fix Squall's blade up as promised and cut down on the time he'd have to come in the next day. Squall was in bed now anyways, there was nothing he could do.

Running a hand through his hair, feeling the ache in his body from the long hours at the anvil, he wanted nothing but sleep. He only briefly closed his eyes, but then took a deep breath and returned to the dagger that hopefully hadn't cracked yet.

* * *

**[Seifer Almasy's Apartment, Chimera District, Thursday, 23rd of October, 2:53 am]**

Seifer could hardly keep his eyes open as he walked down the far too brightly lit corridor, his brain pretty much asleep already. The drive home had taken care of that, the hum of the engine and the empty roads not doing much to fight off his exhaustion. The only thing left to do was to check on Squall and then he'd be able to collapse on the couch. He needed it so fucking badly. Screw showering—the couch would just have to smell of soot for a week.

Unlocking the door to his apartment, it was a moment before his eyes adjusted to the softer lighting inside. One of the lamps had been left on.

Closing the doors behind him, his eyes traveled to the blanket and cushion lying in a mess next to the couch. A cup of water had been knocked over on the coffee table, its content having trickled into a puddle on the floor. He frowned—Squall was too anal to leave the place like that. Hastening his steps, he made a beeline for the bedroom and froze into place when he crossed the threshold.

Squall was lying on his back, the sheets kicked to the side almost completely. The man was moving restlessly in his sleep, cheeks flushed and a deep frown marring his brow. Quickly setting Lion Heart's case on the floor, Seifer crossed the room and leaned in over the bed. He immediately pressed the back of his hand to the brunet's forehead.

_Fuck_.

Squall was fucking burning up again. Not as badly as before, but there was heat there—just when he'd hoped to come home to a sound asleep brunet already on the mend. Reality was far from that, the brunet's breathing coming in fast and shallow. Beneath closed eyelids the man's eyes were moving wildly, never pausing. Squall looked _distressed_.

"Squall," he urged, moving his hand to rest on the man's shoulder. He wanted to wake Squall from whatever was affecting him. The man twitched beneath his touch, but didn't wake. He could feel a slight tremor beneath his fingers.

"_Squall_," he repeated, louder than before.

Squall's eyes scrunched tightly in response and his lips parted to mutter incomprehensible, almost soundless words, but there was no further reaction. Squall wasn't waking up.

Taking hold of the brunet's shoulders, Seifer shook the man roughly. He was yelling Squall's name now. He _needed_ to know if Squall was all right or if the man had reverted to nothing more than a shell. He'd have to call Odine—

Gray-blue eyes snapped open, but didn't focus, Squall's pupils blown wide and his arms still trembling in Seifer's hold. The restless moves ceased as Seifer felt fast puffs of air against his cheek. Squall's chest was falling and rising far too rapidly.

Placing himself within Squall's eyesight, Seifer searched the man's eyes for any hint of recognition.

"Squall?" he asked, repeating the man's name much softer than before. Squall's gaze seemed to focus.

"...Seifer," Squall said with a slightly furrowed brow.

Taking in a deep breath, only now becoming aware of just how strong his grasp on Squall was—_crushing_—Seifer slowly eased up, still fighting the adrenaline that pumped through his body.

"Sorry," he managed, "It was the only way to wake you." He moved his hand down a couple of inches to rest against Squall's bare arm. The brunet's breathing was slowing down.

"Everything's all right, Squall," he said softly, frowning at the brief grimace the sound brought to the brunet's face. He paused, not wanting to aggravate things further, but he needed to know. "Have you taken your meds?" he whispered, relieved at the nod that followed before Squall closed his eyes again.

He trailed his hand upwards until it rested in brown locks. Squall didn't shy away, probably too exhausted and still halfway lost in his fevered dreams. Seifer let out a soft sigh. At least Squall was much calmer now, reassuring him it was only a temporary relapse. In his experience most illnesses got worse in the evening with a spike in temperature—hopefully this was the same. He'd watch over the brunet and pull the man out of any more restless dreams.

"I hate to see you like this," he murmured, as Squall blinked through heavy-lidded eyes. He slowly let his hand travel down the edge of Squall's neck, feeling the damp skin there. The man's breathing was even and paced now.

"Hey... scoot over," he whispered after a moment, a tired smile tugging at his lips when Squall complied without even opening his eyes.

Grabbing the bunched up sheets, he shook them and then covered the brunet lightly, before quickly undoing his pants and dropping them to the floor along with his shirt. Moving under the sheets himself, he lay on his side to better watch the brunet.

The distressed expression from earlier was gone, the man's features relaxed. He could still see beads of sweat forming on the man's brow however, so he got out of bed again and opened the window to let in a slight breeze. He wet a cloth with cold water and held it to Squall's brow. The brunet didn't even twitch, already fast asleep.

Seifer sat there for ages, just watching, making sure. He cooled down the damp cloth several times, never straying far.

Only when he had trouble keeping his eyes open for longer than a minute at a time, his body sagging with exhaustion, did he lie down again. The last thought he had before falling asleep was that he'd wake up if Squall had another feverish nightmare. He'd feel it. He'd be there.

* * *

**A/N: **Yup, we're still alive and working on the story (however slowly). Real life has been in the way quite a bit and that won't change for the foreseeable future. But we'll still plow on and hopefully get more posted soon. Hope you enjoyed the chapter! And sorry about any mistakes - our betas went through a very early version of this chapter. We've rewritten a lot of it since but didn't want to keep you guys waiting any longer, so decided to post it with whatever (horrible) errors may remain :3 Hope you survived ;) (and sorry to anyone who read this right after posting - we'd forgotten doesn't pick up on our emdashes well - took some time to fix)


	18. Collateral Damage

**~ Chapter Eighteen - Collateral Damage ~**

* * *

**[Seifer Almasy's Apartment, Zayin House, Wednesday, 23rd of October, 9:13 am]**

Squall was leaning heavily into the couch, his head tilted backwards and an arm draped across his eyes. In his free hand he loosely held an almost empty glass of water—his morning dosage of pills was all the breakfast he'd been able to get down.

The last clear memory he had of the previous evening was Seifer's phone call, ordering him to bed. He'd complied far too easily, a clear sign his mind hadn't been right. After that, everything was a blur of fevered images—dark fog, a black sky, cracked earth and dust. All of it provided the backdrop for a bleak kind of hopelessness that had squeezed his chest with the certainty he'd be trapped and alone forever.

It was confronting to suffer that particular nightmare again, and telling. Unlike just after the war, he hadn't dreamed of all the lost lives, of all the people he'd failed. He hadn't even dreamed of crazed, green eyes as an electric current tore him apart. After all this time, it seemed the worst nightmare remained and it had gained a far sharper, far more real edge. Whether it was the result of the broken bond or losing the one person who had promised to stay with him forever, he wasn't sure.

He groaned softly as his migraine finally started to abate, the meds kicking in. Raking his fever edged memories, he tried to remember what had happened for him to wake up in the embrace of a far too underdressed blond. Seifer had been pressed close, an arm wrapped tightly around his waist. He'd also found a small, wet towel next to his head, the cloth having soaked a large stain into his pillow.

Seifer must have tried to bring his fever down.

What he wasn't clear on however, was why they'd ended up in such an intimate position. Stripping down to one's boxers and getting under the blankets with a patient did _not_ constitute necessary bedside manners. He would've been angry, if it wasn't for what little he _did_ remember—the overwhelming relief at Seifer's presence. He couldn't be certain the man hadn't joined him at his own request. Even now, he still couldn't completely shake the unsettling nightmare.

It seemed there was no end to his shame. After the war, he'd allowed Rinoa to dull his dreams until they'd eventually disappeared altogether, but not once had he fallen far enough to crave physical comfort.

Cursing the broken bond and the debilitating weakness it had reduced him to, Squall startled when his phone vibrated in his pocket. With a groan he set down the glass on the coffee table and got out the offending item. One glance at the bright-blue display almost had him reconsidering the promise he'd made Rinoa the previous day.

"Yes?"

"_Squall_," the president intoned. "I've been trying to reach you. How are you, son?"

"I'm fine," he said, clenching his jaw at the affectionate term.

"Hn," the older man hummed noncommittally. "Rinoa told me what happened... From what she said, I wasn't sure what to expect. I should have trusted my gut feeling something wasn't quite right. The two of you spun one hell of a story, making everyone think you were still together."

"What we tell people is _our_ business."

"It is," the president conceded, "but nobody should go through something like that alone."

"It's done. It's over and I'm _fine_," Squall said harshly. Hearing movement from the bedroom—drawers being pulled open and closed, a showerhead sputtering into action—he knew he had to wrap up the phone call quickly.

"How's the medication?"

Squall frowned. It seemed like Rinoa's report to the man had been comprehensive. "It helps."

"Good, that's good..." Loire said, trailing off. "You know, your friends have told me you're Garden's worst patient. I'm the same, I'm afraid. Can't sit still for a moment." A soft chuckle was followed by an awkward pause that instantly had Squall apprehensive. Loire rarely ran out of words.

"... If you'd stay at the palace, I'd leave you your space. You could—"

"_No_."

"Hear me out," the man pleaded. "You'd have all the space and privacy in the world, there would be a physician on standby at all times—"

"_Loire_—" Squall tried to interrupt.

"—I'd be at ease, _Rinoa_ would be at ease, and quite frankly, I don't like lying to Quistis."

Raising a hand to knead at his brow, Squall took a few seconds to calm himself before answering. "I already have a place to stay. I'm _not_ going to the palace."

"...Rinoa told me as much," the president yielded with a small sigh. "Don't fault me for offering, Squall. Anything you need, anything I can do, just let me know."

"I told you, I'm—"

"_Fine_, yes, yes. I know. As I said, I justed wanted to hear so for myself." The man paused. "So, you're getting along then? With this... Seifer Almasy?"

The way Loire said Seifer's name sounded too much like the man was reading the name off a file—as if he didn't already know everything there was to know about Seifer's past.

"He won't be any trouble," Squall replied, inwardly huffing at the lie. Seifer was _always_ trouble.

"I sure hope so, for both our sakes," the president said. "Quistis called me last night, demanding to speak to you. She put me on the spot when I couldn't give her any detailed information. She's not an easy one to fool."

"What did you tell her?"

"Ah, well, what little I know from Rinoa, but the redacted version of course." The president let out an amused huff. "Can't say she was happy about it. She had me squirming faster than any politician could with those questions of hers. She'll be expecting a medical report sometime soon."

Squall suppressed a groan. "What else?"

"I took the liberty of contacting Odine."

"I'm _not_ going back there."

"I had to give her _something_, Squall. It was either that, or she would've sent Doctor Kadowaki on the next train to Esthar," the man replied, not sounding the least bit apologetic. "I doubt she'd trust anyone else to examine you, and to be honest, neither would I."

When Squall didn't immediately reply, the older man continued. "I could arrange an appointment for you. No waiting list. You could have it over with by the end of the day."

Loathe as he was to admit it, Loire had a point. He couldn't ignore Quistis and Garden, nor could he ignore his condition. "What would the examination entail?"

"A full physical and some tests of your magic. Odine would like to examine what went wrong with your junction with Shiva as well." The president paused briefly. "He's already agreed to clear his schedule for the afternoon," he confessed. "Go in, hear what he has to say, and we'll take it from there."

Not having missed out on the "we" in that suggestion, Squall narrowed his eyes. "What time?"

"How about 12 o'clock?"

Squall frowned. He'd have to leave within the hour. "Not much of a heads-up."

"I know... but I only just managed to get through to you," the president said apologetically. "I can pick you up on the way if that makes things easier?"

"No," Squall immediately cut off, cringing at the prospect of a presidential escort. "I'll drive there myself."

"... Are you sure? It wouldn't be any trouble. Also, I would like to meet Mr. Almasy—"

"_Loire_."

The president sighed. "I can't help but be concerned, Squall, and not just about your health—"

No longer able to hear the shower running, Squall willed the man to get on with it.

"—When Rinoa came by... She's still crazy about you. I'm having a hard time believing she was the one to decide on such drastic measures." The man paused, uncharacteristically weighing his words. "Are you sure you made the right choice?"

Brow twitching at the man's audacity, Squall replied coolly, "There was no other choice."

"There always is," the president countered gently. "If you still love each other, I don't see why it has to end like this. I know it's... difficult for you to meet people halfway, but perhaps it's not too late. Perhaps you can still mend things?"

"There is nothing left to mend," Squall bit out, his fingers tightening around his phone. "Rinoa and me—_we're over_."

"I don't know what happened, son, but I do know some things are worth fighting for—"

"_Don't._"

Noticing movement from the corner of his eyes, Squall looked up to see Seifer standing in the doorway of the bedroom, watching him with a raised eyebrow.

"_Alright_, alright..." the president continued, unaware. "I just—I don't want you to regret this. Take it from a man who knows what it feels like—"

Gaze on the blond who was now heading to the kitchen, Squall interrupted the president. "I have to go."

"Right away?" the older man asked, recovering fast when Squall didn't reply. "Okay. All right... I'll see you at 12 o'clock then?"

"_Yes_."

"Great. See you there, son."

Giving a hum of acknowledgement, Squall snapped his phone shut and dropped his hand to the couch. Watching as the blond made himself breakfast, he slowly relaxed when the man didn't give any indication he'd overhead anything.

With a bowl of cereal in hand, Seifer walked over to sit next to the brunet on the couch. Squall looked better than he had the previous morning, but not by much. The man's expression was still drawn and his skin even paler than usual. It didn't seem like the phone conversation had helped. "The pills working at all?"

Squall leaned back in the couch and shrugged. "Somewhat."

"So you're feeling better?"

Biting back the urge to coldly dismiss the blond, Squall knew he'd lost all credibility the night before and hummed an affirmative instead.

"Good enough to go on a bit of an explore today?" Seifer asked. They'd drive each other nuts if they had to stay in the apartment all day. "I can show you the wonderful sights of the area or something."

Squall raised an eyebrow at the unlikely invitation. He had a hard time envisioning himself strolling about the city with his one-time rival, seeing the sights. "I have somewhere I need to be later."

"Where?" Seifer immediately demanded.

"None of your business," Squall replied, disinclined to bring an audience. He wanted to hear Odine's verdict in privacy. Loire's meddling would already be bad enough. Remembering the conditions of the tests, he faced the blond. "I'll need Shiva."

"You're fucking out of your mind, if you think that's going to happen," Seifer said under his breath. "And you're not fucking going _anywhere_ on your own."

Squall narrowed his eyes. "It's not up to you," he said with forced calm. "I'm going, and I'm taking Shiva." This new _concerned_ side to the blond was proving troublesome. Back at Garden, he could've walked off a cliff or taken on a T-Rex heavily injured, without even garnering the blond's interest.

"You're wrong, Squall. It _is_ up to me," Seifer said, getting fed up with the brunet's attitude. "I didn't just nurse your ass back to health just so you can go out and screw it all up again." He barely paused to breathe. "I don't care where the fuck you're going, but I'm coming, and you're _not _getting Shiva. She's part of the reason why you got into this fucking mess in the first place." His next words came out in a low growl. "That, and the fact that you didn't fucking listen when I told you I'd been out for a month after Ultimecia."

He faced Squall head on. "What the fuck were you trying to prove going off on your own like that?" Shaking his head, not expecting an answer, he put the unfinished bowl of cereal down on the coffee table with a loud clang. "_Fuck,_" he cursed, flopping back against the couch, his mood officially ruined.

Keeping a tight rein on his composure, Squall refused to be provoked by the blond. "You have no right to Shiva," he declared. Shifting on the couch until he was sitting face to face with the blond, he didn't wait for a response as he placed his hand on Seifer's leg, his mind searching for and immediately finding his ice goddess.

Not breaking their locked gazes, Seifer narrowed his eyes. He couldn't deny Squall Shiva, but he could damn well make sure the man knew just how little he approved. As Squall formed a connection with the Guardian Force in his mind, he was overwhelmed by Shiva's eagerness to return to the brunet. Clenching his jaw, he closed his eyes at the pain that suddenly consumed him.

Reveling in the sensation of his ice goddess reaching out to him, Squall contained himself. He wasn't entirely without caution—he'd simply draw her, not junction her. He shivered at Shiva's all encompassing cold as it flooded his consciousness and froze the air around them. His hold on the draw was tenuous, but her willingness more than made up for his shaky control, her enthusiasm spilling over and flaring brightly in the blue tendrils of magic licking the air.

When the magical connection finally died down, he drew in a tremulous breath, his ice goddess content to settle in the back of his mind unjunctioned.

Opening his eyes, he stiffened. Seifer's face was drawn taut, the man's fists white-knuckled and his breath coming in rushed and shallow. Before he could react, the blond was off the couch with a venomous glare sent his way, disappearing into the bedroom.

Squall sat stunned as the sound of slamming doors was immediately followed by the distant sound of retching. Realizing he'd made a mistake—that there'd been more too Seifer's refusal to give back the GF—he pushed off the couch and followed after the blond. Opening the bathroom door, he stared at the sight before him. The blond was bent over the sink, his features contorted in pain.

"I've never seen anyone react like this," Squall said with a frown.

Tilting his head up to meet the brunet's gaze in the mirror, Seifer forced his expression under control. Ignoring the twitch another wave of pain brought to his features, he turned around and placed a firm hand on the brunet's chest, forcing the man back out of the room.

Finding himself shut out a second time, the sound of retching immediately resuming, Squall resigned himself to waiting the man out. He didn't understand what had brought about such a violent result. As a cadet the blond had never had any trouble with junctioning or drawing. He couldn't chalk it up to Shiva being exclusively compatible with himself either—he'd been forced to let others draw her a couple of times in the past and never with a result like this.

A disconcerting thought niggled its way into his mind. What if it wasn't just himself that had been affected by the broken bond? What if Shiva had been damaged as well? Carefully, he examined her presence in his mind, but he couldn't be sure without junctioning and he didn't dare risk it after the disastrous results of last time.

He startled from his musings when the bathroom door finally opened. Seifer only spared him a brief glance before heading into the kitchen. Following suit, he curbed his questions when his gaze was drawn to the box of painkillers Seifer had gotten out of the cupboard.

Watching as the blond swallowed down two pills, Squall thought back to the morning they'd both been hung-over...Seifer had asked for Esunas, and when he hadn't been able to cast, the man had resorted to Antidotes instead of his own curative magic.

"You don't junction anymore," he stated with a frown. It was the only conclusion that added up, yet it made no sense at all. Seifer had been good with his magic. He couldn't imagine the blond giving up any of his GFs.

"No," Seifer said, not caring to elaborate in the slightest. He was still pissed at Squall for going ahead and drawing Shiva. And now Squall knew how fucking low he'd sunk. No fucking GFs to back him up. No magic. All he had left was his fucking gunblade.

Squall eyed the blond carefully. "Why?"

Seifer snorted. "You saw what happened."

"It's like that every time?"

Looking away and gritting his teeth, Seifer put down the empty glass of water. "Since the war," he admitted gravely. Walking over to sit down on the couch, he brought up a hand to knead at his forehead.

Rooted in place, Squall had trouble accepting the implications of what Seifer had just said, but he pieced it together easily enough. Seifer meant since Ultimecia—since the bond had been broken. He felt his chest constrict. His chances of full recovery had suddenly become very slim. Taking in Seifer's weary expression, he balled his hands into fists. What more had Ultimecia taken from the man?

As the silence stretched on, Seifer refused to wallow in front of Squall. "Who needs magic anyways?" he said with a shrug, wanting to dismiss the topic alltogether. "I'm doing fine without it."

However unconvincing Squall found the blond's indifference, he at least agreed that Seifer had indeed managed without. The man was a force to be reckoned with, whether he used magic or not. It would be different for himself. Magic was his edge, how he set himself apart. Garden would no longer have a use for him; he'd have nowhere to go.

Letting out a sigh, Squall considered his options. This changed a lot. It wasn't just about him anymore—Seifer had a stake in this as well. Whatever conclusions Odine would arrive at, they'd probably be relevant to the blond. Bringing up a hand to knead at the bridge of his nose, where a dull ache still throbbed behind his eyes, he already regretted the decision forming in his head.

"I'm seeing Odine today."

Pulled from his thoughts, Seifer regarded Squall suspiciously. Of all the places he'd imagined Squall to run off to, Odine's laboratory had never even occurred to him.

"Check-up?"

Squall nodded.

"I'll take you then," Seifer said, as if they hadn't just argued about the exact same thing ten minutes ago. "When do we leave?"

At Seifer's assuming words Squall nearly thought better of his decision. Giving in like this went against years of rivalry and standing up to the blond. "Don't misunderstand," he warned, giving the man a level look. "I'm _not _bringing you in as a chaperone."

"Well, you're not going in alone," Seifer said firmly.

Squall rolled his eyes at the blond's one track mind. "I'm going in to check my magic—to find out when I can get back to the field. You never had that chance. I might not trust Odine, but... you get to hear what he says."

"...You think it's the same for us?" Seifer asked. "That your magic will be affected like mine?"

Squall shrugged, not feeling the levity of the gesture. "It's a possibility."

"_Fuck_," Seifer cursed lowly, wanting to punch something. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me you'd do something as stupid as breaking the bond?" he demanded as he shot off the couch. Squall _couldn't _be affected like him—that'd mean the end of his career.

"When are we going?"

"We should leave in fifteen minutes. The appointment's at twelve."

"All right... Okay."

As the blond grappled with his hypothesis, Squall considered how to broach the one thing he hadn't mentioned yet. It wasn't so much that he didn't want Seifer to know—he'd simply never had to explain the unlikely situation to someone as of yet. Everyone just sort of _found out_, Rinoa being the first. With one of his friends informing the other within the time span of a week, he'd been spared the ordeal of trying to broach the awkward subject.

Watching as Seifer grabbed himself a drink and moved to sit on the couch, the man's expression grim, Squall decided on the straightforward approach. No matter how he phrased it, it would still come out sounding ridiculous.

"I wasn't the one who made the appointment," he started, uncomfortable. "President Loire did. He'll be there." Pausing, he let that fact sink in first.

His drink forgotten, Seifer studied Squall. "What the hell for?"

"...He's my father. I found out after the war."

"You're fucking with me," Seifer said, not even considering it being the truth. When Squall just held his gaze, reminding him that _no_, the brunet never did fucking joke, his brain struggled to keep up. "How the fuck did you find out?"

"Loire told me," Squall replied simply, the full account far too fanciful to just drop on the blond.

"And you believed him?" Seifer asked, not buying the story for a second. "He probably just wanted a prodigy for a son or something," he found himself saying, but immediately realized the flaw in his statement—Squall's reputation might be well known, but the man's identity certainly wasn't. Worst of all, Squall seemed convinced it was the truth. "Does he have any proof?"

"Ellone," Squall said, hoping he wouldn't have to explain about the woman's powers or her connection to him and Loire. "She...showed me," he simplified. "And I requested a DNA test."

Seifer raised an eyebrow. "So it's true?"

He should have expected the lack of reply, but hell, Squall had to know _anyone_ would have trouble wrapping their head around something like that. Leaning back against the couch, he ran a hand through his hair. This was ridiculous. _Of course_ Squall's dad had to be the fucking _President of Esthar._

The idea of Squall suddenly having a dad in the first place was absurd enough on its own. He couldn't imagine Squall as part of a family. Neither of them belonged in a domestic setting like that. If anyone suddenly came along and told him they were his mom or dad, he'd tell them to fuck off.

"What's his excuse?" he demanded. "For leaving you behind."

Sighing, Squall moved to join Seifer on the couch. When Loire had first come forth, he'd often wondered which was the most tragic—the scenario of abandonment he'd feared as a child, or the truth. Now he just felt numb towards the whole ordeal.

"Loire didn't know about me," he finally said. "We found out around the same time."

"Really? ...What a headfuck," Seifer said, eyeing Squall. "How did he take it?"

"Better than me," Squall replied dryly. "He's trying to act like a father—make up for lost time."

The thought of anyone trying to act like a dad to Squall briefly put a smirk on his Seifer's lips. "So you don't get along well?"

Squall considered the question. It had never really been a case of them not getting along, but rather of him not needing anything from the man to begin with. "...He wants a son. I don't want anything from him."

"Do you see him often?"

"When I can't avoid it."

"And when's that?"

Squall glanced at Seifer, the man's curiosity catching him off guard. "On the job, mostly. Dinner occasionally." He huffed. "When I'm seeing Odine."

"Shit, I'd already forgotten about that," Seifer let out. He couldn't believe he was going to meet the president of Esthar—Squall's _dad_—and soon. Coupled with his headache, it felt like his head was about to explode. "You think your dad's going to make me disappear into a cell somewhere? I did kinda piss on his territory and all..."

Squall frowned at the blond's remark, realizing the implications of what Seifer had just said. _No one_ entered Esthar under the radar—strict migration policies and a secret service prevented any "unwanted" elements from disturbing the status quo.

"The moment you crossed the border and applied for Estharian citizenship, he knew about you," Squall said, his frown deepening. Loire had purposefully hidden Seifer's whereabouts from Garden, and he'd like to know _why_.

"Maybe my name just got lost in the system," Seifer mused.

Squall shook his head. "Not in Esthar..." Everything was monitored here. That was when he realized his mistake—that the blond couldn't possibly know about the Treaty of Nortes. He'd never had the chance to broach the topic the last time they'd talked about the war. He regarded the blond, unsure of how the news would be received.

"No one is looking to punish you... The war isn't public knowledge because it's been kept that way," he said, weighing his words. "After the war there was a diplomatic summit to deal with the aftermath—top brass only. A general exemption was signed."

"An exemption for what?" Seifer asked as he furrowed his brow.

"It was meant for the Galbadian soldiers that followed Ultimecia's orders, but in effect it exempts everyone that acted under her rule," Squall explained, his thoughts returning to the chaotic weeks after Ultimecia's demise. The vacuum of power after Ultimecia's defeat had plunged Galbadia straight into civil war, nearly dragging the rest of the world into war as well.

"Why?" Seifer demanded with a frown.

"Galbadia needed its soldiers. There was no time for tribunals, and informing the public would've created a panic," Squall replied evenly. "All nations signed the exemption and a contract of non-disclosure to prevent escalation. Garden signed as well."

Seifer let out a deep breath. "...Damn." It was hard to believe that no one would ever make him pay for what he'd done—that no one even had the right to. He'd stopped looking over his shoulder early on, not wanting to spend his life worrying about what punishment might come, but he'd always expected it _would_ come, sooner or later. It had only been a question of when.

Pushing up from the couch, he walked to the kitchen. It was early to start drinking, but he needed something to get his head around this. Pouring some whiskey into a tumbler, he leaned back against the kitchen counter. "So no one can do anything?"

"It's to no one's advantage," Squall said with a shrug. "Politics isn't about justice or integrity."

Huffing, Seifer took a large gulp of the golden liquid before resolutely placing the glass on the counter. "So the president knows I'm here and can't do anything about it. And you're his son." _Whom I slept with_. "And now you're bringing me in to see him..." He shook his head. "You know this is fucked right?"

Squall frowned at the blond's breakdown of the facts. "I'm bringing you in to see _Odine_," he corrected. "Loire is none of your concern."

Thinking the president could very well _become _his concern, Seifer took another mouthful of whiskey. No matter the circumstances, he wouldn't let Squall go in on his own—he wasn't about to risk a repeat of what had happened to Squall at the hotel. Glancing at his cell phone, he clenched his teeth. _11:22 am._

"Fuck. It's time to go," he grumbled as he pushed away from the counter.

Getting up from the couch, Squall tried to suppress his unease. He'd just complicated everything by involving Seifer; the one person he least wanted to see him this weak. Any hope he'd had for a positive outcome at the lab was diminishing the more he thought about it, and to top it all off, he'd also have to contend with two of his least favorite people—the mad doctor and his father. With a soft huff, he shrugged on his jacket and hoped he wouldn't regret the decisions he'd made.

* * *

**[Odine's lab, Chimera district, Wednesday, 23rd of October, 11:48 am]**

Taking in the complex of steel blue skyscrapers in front of them, Seifer pulled his key out of the ignition. He'd never passed by Odine's new lab before, but he had seen it advertised on numerous public announcement displays around Esthar when it had first been completed. A benchmark of Estharian technology and architecture. A small park meandered between the buildings, no doubt an attempt to try and distract from what went on inside. He'd read the headlines about the magic and monster research that supposedly went on in there.

When the passenger door slammed shut next to him, he got out of the truck and followed Squall across the parking lot. It was impossible to miss the long black Torama limousine parked near the entrance. Guards were posted next to it, leaving no doubt to whom it belonged. _Fuck_. He hadn't figured out how the hell to deal with that part of their outing yet.

Entering the huge lobby, he followed as the brunet led them down a maze of corridors before coming to a halt inside a hover lift. Squall had been nothing but rigidity and determination since they'd arrived—the man definitely didn't like the place. Not that he could blame the guy. The brunet's entire future depended on what would happen the next couple of hours.

Growing tense, he stared ahead as the levels whizzed by. Squall hadn't ever done _anything_ to deserve this. What had happened to himself, he could accept. He'd fucked up and he was paying the price, but Squall—Squall had done _everything_ right and now the man's entire future was on the line, simply because he'd fallen for the wrong fucking girl at the wrong fucking time.

When the lift's energy field dissipated, Seifer forced himself to unclench his hands. In front of them a short corridor led to a double door with two guards posted in front of it. They wore the exact same get-ups as the guards he had spotted next to the president's ride.

He watched as Squall sent the two men a curt nod and spoke a firm "He's with me." When the guards stepped aside without any sign of surprise and with the respect they would show any high ranking official, he studied the brunet. Just how much power did Squall have over the president's private entourage?

Only given a second to ponder the question as the doors slid open, his eyes immediately fell to the man waiting inside the next room.

"Loire," Squall offered in reluctant greeting.

Breaking away from his study of Odine's outlandish machines, Laguna smiled and suppressed the ever present giddiness he felt whenever he was meeting his son. Even after more than two years, he still hadn't gotten used to seeing the young man—he looked so much like Raine.

Walking over to his son, Laguna hid his surprise at the unexpected guest lingering only a step behind Squall. Tall and blond, he recognized the man from the photos in his file.

"Squall," he greeted with a broad smile, more than used to his son's lukewarm hellos. Bringing up his hands to briefly squeeze Squall's shoulders, he scrutinized the brunet's appearance. Satisfied the man looked his usual self and nothing like he had feared, Laguna dropped his hands and looked between his son and the tall man expectantly.

"Seifer Almasy," Squall introduced, casting a glance over his shoulder.

Laguna stepped forward with an easy smile and extended his hand. "Nice to meet you, Seifer."

Seifer shook the president's hand. "You too, Sir," he said with less firmness than he would have liked. The man hadn't called for his guards yet and seemed friendly enough, but it just didn't feel right. He'd attacked the man's country for Hyne's sake and now he was being treated as a friend of Squall's.

Sensing his son's close scrutiny, Laguna knew from years of diplomatic experience that he had to break the ice and fast. "I must admit, I wasn't expecting Squall to bring anyone. You've caught me by surprise," he said affably. "Rinoa told me my son has got you playing host?"

"Host _and_ servant," Seifer corrected. "If you don't cook for the guy, he doesn't eat." When the president's smile widened at his words, Seifer felt some of his tension fade. "I'm surprised as well," he added. "I can't believe you managed to persuade Squall to come in for tests. That's quite a feat."

Laguna raised his hand in denial. "I don't think anyone would dare presume to have such sway over my son," he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Not if they want to keep their balls," Seifer added quickly, turning to smirk at Squall.

_Great. Kindred spirits_. "Where is Odine?" Squall asked, cutting short the niceties as he walked further into the lab. Already he felt tempted to take Seifer up on the challenge he was sure he'd heard in the man's words. Apparently the idiot wasn't attached enough to his balls to heed his own advice.

Sobering up at the question, Laguna sent Seifer a regretful smile. His son was the most impatient person he'd ever met. "Odine is making preparations in his lab for the moment. He said we should head downstairs for the first part of the tests. A full physical, I believe."

"Fifth floor?" Squall asked tersely. He'd accompanied Rinoa there once, at the time of her first consultation. It was the only place in the entire building that looked like it was actually meant to treat patients.

"That would be it," Laguna nodded.

Curiosity piqued at another hint of Squall's familiarity with the place, Seifer quickly caught up with father and son. "Come here often?"

Calling the lift down, Squall regarded the blond. "With Rinoa," he replied tersely. He didn't want to think about her, when too much about the place already reminded him of her.

"Why?"

Noticing the stiffening to his son's shoulders, Laguna tried to diffuse the tension. "Odine has been helping Rinoa," he explained. "She wasn't born a sorceress and was never instructed on how to control her powers. Odine is the leading authority in the field—" He gestured for the two young men to enter the lift when the energy field faded. "—the same reason we're here."

Walking ahead, Seifer considered the president's words. He hadn't expected Rinoa to need any help... or for Squall to have accompanied Rinoa to such appointments. Squall must've really been smitten with her, to spend his free time holed up in a lab. "I see."

When Seifer let the topic rest, Squall met Loire's gaze. The man had just saved him an unpleasant conversation with the meddling blond, omitting in the right places without resorting to outright lies. Ignoring the president's smile, he looked away.

The moment the lift came to a halt, he exited and made for the assistant who was standing in wait for them. "Commander," the man nodded in greeting. "Mr. President."

Tuning out the formalities as the assistant led them to a consultation room, Squall wished they could skip ahead to the examination of his magic and junctions. He knew his physical condition was improving—a lifetime of suffering injuries had taught him how to interpret his body's signs and limitations. Apart from the piercing headaches, the weakness he'd felt the day before had disappeared almost entirely.

Ushered into a large room with a desk, chairs and examination table, Squall took in his surroundings. The space almost passed for a room one would find in any hospital, if it hadn't been for the camera mounted on the ceiling. Behind him, Loire was grilling the assistant on the exact proceedings of the day's tests. _Whatever_. He just wanted it over with.

"Can we start?" he asked, turning to face the assistant.

"Of course," the man said, sitting down by the desk. "I'll start with some questions."

Pulling up a chair, Seifer was surprised when Squall didn't tell him to get the fuck out of there. He didn't really have any right to be part of this, but it seemed the brunet didn't care either way. Happy enough to take advantage of the situation, he leaned forward in his seat, not about to miss anything.

"First of all, please tell me what happened after you and Ms. Heartilly broke the bond?" the assistant asked, his gaze neutral and his pen ready.

Loathe to inform a total stranger about something so personal, Squall distanced himself from the facts—the way he always did when debriefing. "I junctioned Shiva. Immediately after, I left the lab and drove to a hotel." Pausing, he forced the next words past his lips. "I then lost consciousness. I was out for three days."

"And how did you feel before you lost consciousness?"

"...Disoriented."

"In what way?"

As Squall supplied yet another brief reply, Seifer arched an eyebrow. If this was how it was going to play out, then it would be about just as exciting as watching Squall going in for a dental appointment. He should have stayed home in bed.

Next to him, the president was listening intently, hanging on to Squall's every reply, no matter how succinct. The man really seemed to care—there had been genuine excitement in his eyes when he'd laid eyes on his son.

Seifer couldn't deny the resemblance. The older man was attractive, just like his son. His hair was darker and longer, and his eyes were green, but even without a paternity test, you could tell they were related.

"Have you had any nightmares?" Seifer heard the assistant ask, pulling him from his thoughts.

Realizing he'd missed a bunch of questions, he waited for Squall to answer. At the simple "no," he frowned. He was certain Squall had been suffering from nightmares the night before.

Wondering if Squall was lying about other things, Seifer listened more closely to the next questions, but Squall answering in the negative every single time couldn't hold his attention for long. The only thing Squall had confirmed so far were headaches and nausea and that much he'd already guessed. This was starting to look like one giant waste of time.

Leaning forwards, he let his hands hang between his knees. He hadn't even brought along any form of entertainment. The only thing that was even remotely interesting was the bizarre father-son thing. From the president's answer in the lift, it seemed like the man actually knew Squall quite well—much better than he'd expected. Squall wouldn't have told just anyone about Rinoa unless he'd absolutely had to.

He frowned. Maybe Rinoa had been the one to keep father and son in touch? Looking back over to Squall, he couldn't help but wonder just how different the brunet's life had been to what he'd imagined.

Half-hearing the next question, concerning hallucinations, he narrowed his eyes when he spotted Squall tense in his seat. There was no way those shoulders could be set any straighter.

"... No," Squall replied after a short pause, unrepentant. When the assistant didn't seem to notice his hesitance, he relaxed. He knew hiding the hallucinations wasn't the best solution, but it was his only real choice.

Feeling the blond's eyes on him, he glanced to the side and immediately stiffened. Seifer was looking at him intently, when before the man had looked bored out of his mind.

The bastard couldn't possibly know. He'd barely hesitated. He'd skirted the truth with plenty of the other questions, denying nightmares and disturbed sleep, not once earning Seifer's scrutiny. His unease mounted—bringing Seifer had been a mistake.

Growing more and more impatient, he kept his answers as brief as possible, rushing the assistant along. He didn't want to give the blond any opening to pipe up. When finally the last inane question had been ticked off on the assistant's clipboard, he was out of his chair.

"Well, that wasn't too bad," Loire said pleasantly, sending him a smile. "Next are the physical tests then?" he directed to the assistant.

"Yes," the assistant replied with a nod, standing up from his chair. "The tests do require some exertion. If you prefer, it's possible to change into more suitable clothes in the changing room—it's the second door down the hall, on the right."

Glad for the excuse to leave the increasingly stifling room, Squall ignored the blond's fixed gaze and strode past him into the hallway.

_Definitely a mistake._

* * *

**[Odine's lab, Chimera district, Wednesday, 23rd of October, 3:17 pm]**

As the lift came to a halt on the fifth floor, Seifer waited for the electric blue energy field to dissipate. Just down the hall to the right, he could hear Laguna still talking business on the phone. Throughout Squall's physical tests, the president had been busy in the background, all the while keeping an eye on his son.

Unfortunately, that meant the only thing to occupy Seifer's attention had been watching Squall undergo one mindnumbingly boring test after another. At least it seemed the brunet's physical condition was almost back to normal—Squall had done well in the endurance and strength tests. A lot better than Seifer would've put money on.

Walking over to the president, he held up a sandwich to get the man's attention before placing it on a nearby table. Laguna had suggested sending out one of his employees to get them lunch, but Seifer hadn't been able to take another minute of idleness and had insisted on going out himself. Nodding at the president, he turned around and headed down the hall. Just before he'd left, the assistant had been instructing Squall on the last test, so Seifer knew just where to find the stubborn man.

Stopping in front of the changing room, he leaned against the wall and waited. At the sound of the door to the changing room opening, he straightened and shoved one of the sandwiches he'd bought into Squall's hands.

Looking up from the sandwich to meet Seifer's serious gaze, Squall instantly realized the ambush he'd walked into. Quickly, he schooled his expression and started down the hallway, past the blond.

"Hey, wait up—I want to talk to you," Seifer said firmly, grabbing the man's arm when the brunet didn't listen. The glare it earned him only spurred him on. "Why did you lie?"

"_Let me go_," Squall bit out, not inclined to come clean in the slightest.

"Not until you tell me what the hell is going on," Seifer plowed on. "Tell me about the damn hallucinations."

Bristling at being held in place like a disobedient child, Squall yanked free from the bastard's hold. "There's nothing to tell."

"Wrong fucking answer and you know it. So let's hear it. The truth this time."

When the brunet still didn't say anything in reply, Seifer didn't feel any remorse at resorting to blackmail. "Either you tell _me_ or I tell _them_," he said, cocking his head in the direction of the other end of the hall where the president was still busy talking on the phone. "Ready for daddy dearest to make sure you're not hallucinating?"

Following Seifer's gesture down the hall, Squall stiffened. "_Don't_."

Seifer raised an eyebrow. "No?" he asked, eyeing Squall briefly before starting down the hall.

Squall instantly regretted the mistake of presenting Seifer with a challenge. Grabbing Seifer's arm, he directed the man back into the changing room before Loire would notice. Closing the door behind them, he turned to glare at his assailant. It seemed his decisions always boiled down to choosing the lesser evil lately.

"Visual, olfactory, and auditory," he deadpanned.

"Like what?"

Curbing the reflexive urge to lash out at the blond, Squall clenched his jaw. Seifer always did this—pushed his boundaries and exposed what he didn't want anyone to see. "...Black fog. Noise," he ground out. It seemed so harmless and ridiculous when he said it out loud.

Looking away, Seifer took a few steps farther into the room. "When you were out of it, you seemed sensitive to sound—as if it was painful." He turned around. "Is the noise like that?"

Surprised at the information that was new to him, Squall wondered just how much Seifer had figured out by himself. "At its worst."

"How often does it happen?"

"Often enough," Squall said evenly.

Not liking Squall's evasive replies, Seifer stepped closer. "And just what the hell does that mean?"

"On and off since I came too," Squall said, his voice clipped as he stared the blond down. "You done blackmailing?"

"That depends," Seifer said, crossing his arms. "Why did you lie about it?"

Squall cast the blond an incredulous look—he'd have thought his reasons would be self-evident, most of all to Seifer. "I can't have 'hallucinations' on my medical record."

"You can't go on missions with hallucinations either," Seifer immediately retorted. "And maybe it's easily treatable... maybe _not_ receiving treatment will make it permanent."

"If it's permanent, it would be worse than standard injury protocol," Squall said darkly. It wouldn't stop at him being kept from missions. Garden would declare him "unsound of mind" and he'd be honorably discharged. They could even order him to hand over his GFs if they deemed him too unstable. "I can't risk it."

Seifer let out a deep sigh. Any regular SeeD would be relieved of duty immediately, but this was Squall... Garden's _commander_. Garden owed everything to Squall. "You really think Garden would give you up?"

"I'd never see the field again," Squall said. "A desk job given to me out of pity _maybe_," he added bitterly, "so they can still use my name."

Seifer ran a hand through his hair and looked away. He just couldn't imagine it: the brunet's life as a mercenary _over_... They _had_ to find a way around it.

"Maybe I could say something," he said, immediately realizing his poor choice of words when Squall tensed up further. "I mean, I don't have anything to lose. Maybe I could ask about treatment for me. Say that I've been hallucinating since the bond was broken."

"You have them?" Squall asked, his expression falling. It would explain why Seifer had seen through his lie. He'd already seen for himself the blond hadn't escaped Ultimecia's bond unscathed.

"No," Seifer replied, trying to remember what it had been like when he'd come to at Fu and Rai's. Only weird ass dreams stood out, no hallucinations. "At least not that I know of." He still didn't remember anything from the first month after Ultimecia's death.

"Then it's not worth it," Squall dismissed. The last time he'd dragged up Seifer's knighthood was still clear in his memory, and he didn't want to put the blond through anything like that again.

"I don't give a shit what anyone thinks about me. You need proper treatment."

"No," Squall replied with a shake of his head. "You don't know Odine. He doesn't take patients, only test subjects." The questions would be endless; questions about Ultimecia, about the nature of their bond and more. Odine wasn't known for his tact.

"Either I do this, or you come clean. Your choice."

Frustrated at having come full circle with their useless argument, Squall glared at the impossible blond. This wasn't a fair choice and Seifer knew it; he refused to sacrifice Seifer's privacy and anonymity for a possible fool's errand, but risking his place at Garden, his life as a SeeD...

"You _know_ I can't."

Committing to his decision, Seifer unfurled his arms. "It's settled then," he said firmly. Cutting short any further discussion, he turned and exited the room.

_The nerve_. Clenching his fists at the underhanded tactic, Squall started after the blond, but stopped short of speaking the sharp words on his tongue when he spotted Loire. The president had lowered his cell phone slightly, his attention on their exchange. Of course, the bastard blond just kept walking.

Reigning in the urge to deck the man, he caught up with him and hissed in a low voice, "I don't want this kind of help." Ahead of them, Loire was doing a poor job of pretending he'd returned his attention to his phone call.

"Too bad, Squally-boy—you're gonna get it," Seifer said, smirking at his victory. Squall wouldn't dare bring up the topic in front of his father.

Squall's mouth drew into a thin line, but he refrained from further comment as they walked up to Loire. The man cast them a curious glance, but luckily whoever was on the other end of the call was keeping the president occupied. Moving to lean back against the wall in wait, he glared at the blond for good measure, but the man just bit down on his sandwich in obvious satisfaction.

Finally hanging up, Laguna faced them fully with an apologetic smile. "That should appease the secretary for another couple of hours." Turning the sandwich Seifer had given him over in his hand, he let his gaze travel from his scowling son to the blond.

"Don't mind him, he just can't stand it when I'm right," Seifer said, returning the President's curious gaze as he took another bite of his sandwich.

At the unimpressed snort the comment elicited from his son, Laguna rose an eyebrow. "And what, if I may ask, are you right about?"

"Well, Mr. President, I'm afraid that's classified. A man's gotta look after his balls every once in a while," Seifer answered, his lips quirking into a lopsided smirk.

"Priorities," Laguna intoned in a voice of understanding, hiding his bafflement at the "classified." His son could be difficult about many things, so he hadn't actually expected the argument to have concerned anything important. His train of thought was interrupted however when Squall stalked past them, heading towards the elevators with an expression of barely contained annoyance.

"Better follow the Commander, eh, Mr. President?" Seifer said, unable to speak the titles without a smile on his lips. Here he was with two of the most powerful men on the planet, yet they acted like nothing more than a concerned dad and a petulant kid.

Humming in agreement, Laguna started down the hallway in step with his son's peculiar friend. Until that day, Kiros and Ellone had been the only ones to poke fun at his title and address him as "Mr. President" in jest. Going by the not quite so reverent "Commander," he smiled at the realization that Squall hadn't escaped the same treatment. "Please call me Laguna."

"All right," Seifer said, nodding briefly at the President. "Laguna it is."

As they stopped by the elevator next to Squall, Seifer's smile widened at the wary look the brunet was sending him. When the elevator arrived, he strode in first, not caring for proper protocol in the least.

Filing into the elevator after the blond, Squall tried to ignore the ill-boding fact that Loire and Seifer were already on a first name basis. Impossible as such an outcome had been to predict, somehow he felt like he should've known. So far he hadn't met a single person who wasn't endeared with Loire in some fashion or other, and Seifer... people seemed to either hate or love him. Squall frowned at the implications of that disturbing train of thought, but Loire quickly broke it off.

"Not hungry, son?"

Squall ignored the pointed look Loire was sending the untouched sandwich in his hand. "No."

"Did you eat anything this morning?" Seifer asked, growing suspicious.

Biting out another "no," Squall stalked out of the lift when it came to a halt, away from the two gazes fixed on his back.

Brow twitching as Seifer continued to stick closely to him, Squall didn't give the blond any openings for more meddlesome questions and strode straight into the doctor's laboratory without stalling. At their arrival, Odine rose from his desk chair to meet them, looking far too pleased for comfort.

"Commander!" the man greeted, too focused on his soon to be test subject to bother acknowledging the two other men in the room. "I have gone over ze results of the physical tests and zey are as I expected." As if to underline his point, Odine tapped a finger on his clipboard, eyes skimming over the results.

"So far zere are many similarities between you and some of my former research... participants. Magic tests should confirm zis." Riveted to his clipboard, he turned to walk, gesturing in the direction he was going. "I vill conduct the first test in ze magic diagnostics room."

Seifer stayed in place. "You got something to help Squall's nausea?" he asked firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. It had to be the reason Squall wasn't eating—the brunet wasn't stupid enough not to eat when he needed the energy to get better.

Turning around when no one was following, Odine looked up at the towering blond with one eyebrow hitched high. "Nausea?" the man intoned derisively. "I did not rush away from other experiments to treat _nausea_—" he started, but was quickly cut off when Seifer stepped closer.

"Well tough luck, because you're getting Squall something for it _right now,_" Seifer said, his voice brokering no room for argument.

Looking entirely unimpressed, Odine directed his gaze at the president, but he was only met with an equally firm expression. Grumbling beneath his breath, he walked to the nearest intercom to bark his orders. "Send someone up wiz some antiemetics. Now!"

Only briefly looking back at his guests, he resumed his brisk pace towards a room in the back. "If you would follow me," he sneered with mock politesse.

Long used to Odine's questionable work ethics, Squall followed the doctor after sending Seifer a withering glare for the stunt he'd just pulled, but all he received in return was a smirk. _Bastard_. He hadn't even finished the thought, when behind him Loire decided to pipe up as well.

"Before you start _anything_, I'd like to know something. The former research you mentioned, in what way does it pertain to Squall's condition?" The president did not sound pleased.

Neither did Odine when he turned around to regard his boss with exaggerated impatience. "Ven I first researched magic, many of ze test subjects did not accept a junction and responded aversely. Ze symptoms ze Commander listed are similar enough to suggest a broken sorceress bond is not unlike zese failed junctions. However—" the doctor paused for emphasis, his gaze travelling pointedly to his desired destination, "further tests are necessary."

"If that's everthing," Squall said brusquely, not caring about the specifics of Odine's theories or methods. Only the diagnosis that would end up in his medical report mattered. Casting his two self-appointed babysitters a narrow-eyed warning, he turned to walk to the examination room. Odine immediately started after him, clearly approving of his haste.

Inside, Squall let his eyes roam the machinery and monitors taking up over half of the small space. On the left side there was a large window that looked into another room.

"Through that door," Odine ordered, gesturing towards a heavy, metal door right next to the large window. "On the blue dot."

For the sake of getting the damned tests over with, Squall let Odine's attitude slide and entered the room. Absolute silence followed the slam of the metal door, the large room apparently soundproof. Looking around him, the only thing that broke the monotony of white concrete were two large dots painted on the floor—one red and one blue. After a moment of hesitation, he moved to stand on the blue dot.

In the other room, Laguna immediately moved to the window to keep a constant eye on the brunet. To his left, Seifer did the same. He knew Squall was safe, but the sight of his son confined like that, while Odine was scuffling around in the background and fiddling with his machines... It was too reminiscent of how he had found Ellone so many years ago.

"What kind of test is this?" he asked, suddenly needing to know _exactly_ what Odine was going to do.

The doctor didn't look up from his work, his eyes sweeping over several monitors as he answered. "Zat room is sealed to contain para-magic and zere are sensors in ze walls. I vill evaluate ze Commander's junctioning and magic capabilities." Flicking on a few switches, he tugged a microphone a bit closer and turned his focus to the brunet in the other room.

"Can you hear me?" he said, tapping against the mic.

None too happy with Odine's disregard for proper explanations, Laguna resigned himself to keep a close watch on the proceedings. Inside the sealed room, his son looked around with a frown. Having located the speakers, the young man then turned to watch them.

/_Yes_,/ Squall's voice came from a speaker inside the observation room.

"Have you junctioned or cast magic since ze breaking of ze bond?"

/_No_./

"Ze readings show zat you carry seven GF's. Name zem."

/_Shiva. Diablos. Eden. Griever. Fenrir. Atomos. Anima._/

"Which GF was involved in ze unstable junction?"

/_...Shiva._/

"Junction Shiva."

Watching Odine's eager expression, Seifer felt like strangling the gnome. He just _knew_ the little freak would jump in joy if Squall's magic had taken a turn for the worse. The whole place was giving him the chills.

Watching closely as Squall's irises changed to a soft glowing silver, Seifer didn't miss the slight flinch that crossed the brunet's features. Just as quickly as it had appeared, the man smoothed it away with a small frown, but it didn't fail to put Seifer on edge; Squall _never_ flinched.

"Ze computer has assembled an inventory of your spells. Every minute I vill give you an order to cast one of zem. You vill aim over ze other red dot. Be precise and do not delay once ze order is given. Cast Ice on my mark." The doctor paused to fiddle with a final few settings.

"_Now_."

At the appearance of the first spell, Seifer frowned. It had taken a full two seconds longer for the cone of ice to appear than usual... Those timings were hard-wired into him from their countless days of sparring. The next spell materialized after an even further delay and it even flickered slightly. Seifer ran a hand through his hair as he watched Squall's eyebrows draw further together. _This is bad._

"Can you tell anything from the readings?" he asked as he tried to decipher the graphs and numbers on the monitors himself. None of the numbers or graphs made any sense whatsoever.

When he only got an impatient "shhh" and a dismissive hand gesture for his efforts, he had to curb the rekindled urge to throttle the gnome.

"_Now_."

Switching his attention back to the white room, Seifer waited for the ice to appear. The delay was even longer this time. There was no doubt about it—Squall was getting worse with every spell he cast. Stepping closer to the window, he spotted the brunet's right hand clenching slightly.

"_Now_."

Seifer didn't miss the way gray-blue eyes shut for a fraction of a second this time, more strained than a normal blink. It had been brief and almost unnoticeable, but it had been there.

Looking back over to Odine, Seifer hardened his gaze. "He's in pain and his magic is affected. Even if your fancy machines can't tell you that, I _can_," he said firmly, then charged on. "How much more does he have to do? Just what exactly do you need?"

"Pain?" Laguna asked instantly. Squall had seemed composed to him, as if concentrating. "Doctor?"

"I am well aware of ze fact. My equipment is quite adequate," the doctor replied with a huff, his eyes never straying from his monitors. "_Now_," he spoke into the mic, ordering the fifth Ice spell before turning to face the two men. "In order to correctly assess his condition, I must determine his limits. Without zis data, no diagnosis can be made."

An assistant chose that exact moment to knock on the door and step inside. "The antiemetic you reques—"

"On ze table!" Odine snapped, taking out his frustration on the assistant who rushed to place the meds on the table before hastily showing himself back out. The moment the man had gone, Odine bent towards the mic again.

"On my mark, change to Fire spells."

Unimpressed by Odine's explanation, Seifer forced himself to relent to the man's knowledge for the time being. Turning his gaze back to where the brunet was standing in the other room, he grit his teeth. Squall didn't protest before carrying out Odine's next order—even though it obviously hurt him.

The minutes ticked by slowly as he watched Squall cast one spell after another. The casting times were ridiculously slow now—there was no way the brunet would be a match for even a lowly cadet. Squall's hands were clenched into fists and a deep frown marred his brow. Seifer wanted nothing more than to see Squall cast Ultima or Holy with the same grace and speed he'd shown during the war.

Hearing Odine firmly demand another spell, Seifer frowned when the brunet didn't move. Squall wasn't reacting whatsoever. Not even a single twitch—_nothing_. Catching sight of the brunet's eyes, he immediately rushed to the door separating them. Squall's eyes were flickering between silver and gray-blue, just as they had back at the hotel.

Forcing the door open wide, he immediately began drawing the icy goddess. Offering no resistance this time, the Guardian Force calmly settled in the back of his mind. As the brunet started to collapse a few feet away, Seifer didn't have any time to deal with the searing headache and nausea that assaulted him. Closing the distance between them, he managed to hook his arms under Squall's shoulders just in time, the brunet falling back against his chest.

For a brief moment he was ready to tear the entire lab apart, to take it all out on Odine, until he felt Squall move in his hold. Helping the man stand back up, he distanced himself slightly, but kept a hand held out for the brunet to steady himself on.

"Squall?" he asked, eyeing the man carefully, needing to hear recognition in the man's voice. When no reply came, he stepped within the brunet's point of view. "Who am I?" he asked, unable to mask the urgency in his voice.

"An obnoxious bastard," Squall ground out without bite, gingerly stepping away from Seifer's support.

"Says the Princess," Seifer replied with a huff, bringing a hand up to knead at his brow.

Squall glared weakly in return, until realization hit him beyond his own massive headache. "You okay?"

Dismissing Squall's question, Seifer looked over to where Laguna was standing by the door. He felt about ready to vomit all over the floor, but he'd be damned if he'd show any weakness in front of Squall and the president.

"What just happened?" Laguna asked shakily as he entered the room.

Spotting Loire's focus on Seifer's pinched face, Squall knew he had to act fast before the wrong questions would lead both Loire and Odine to all sorts of questions. He could explain away his own state, but not Seifer's.

"Ask Odine," he said with feigned nonchalance, stepping into the president's line of sight. But before the president could reply, Odine piped up through the speakers.

/_Commander, Mr. President. Please leave ze room._/

When Seifer turned to face the doctor in the other room with narrowed eyes and a straight back, no words of protest ensuing the man's order, Squall knew enough and cursed inwardly at the blond choosing the worst possible time for compliance. He would not let the doctor involve Seifer in this.

"Then I assume my tests are over?" he asked tersely, hoping Odine would prioritize him over whatever readings he had picked up on Seifer.

/_Zey are not. I must simply exclude ze possibility zat my equipment is compromised._/

At hearing the rational explanation Squall _knew_ wasn't sincere, the far too impatient tone to Odine's voice confirmed his suspicion. Whatever the doctor had gleaned from his machines and monitors, the man wasn't letting it go. Seifer wasn't any help either, regarding him with narrowed eyes and the clear order to scram already.

_Idiot_. This wasn't the noble self-sacrifice the blond had envisioned; it was pointless and Squall wouldn't allow it.

"Your equipment is fine," he said evenly. He couldn't deny what Odine had seen on his monitors, but he could deny the doctor the opportunity to examine Seifer instead. "Either you examine me, or no one at all."

"Just do as he says," Seifer let out at Squall's continued stubbornness. "I can handle the imp."

"_Why_?" Squall retorted. "So Odine can get a new pet project? This has nothing to do with—" Loire's presence registered in his peripheral vision, the room's mics still picking up his every word. "—with your _concern_."

"I do not keep _pet projects_." Odine's voice dripped with distaste as he walked into the room. "If you are aware of zis man's readings," the doctor said sharply, jabbing his finger in Seifer's direction, "then you are aware zere are certain similarities you vill not have me ignore."

Regarding the doctor with contempt, Seifer resented the fact that he actually agreed with the gnome on something. "I used to be a knight," he said firmly as he eyed Odine. "Now fix Squall's problem."

Watching Odine's eyes widen at the idiot's revelation, Squall suppressed a groan. He could practically _see_ the cogs turning in the doctor's head, plans taking shape that weren't likely to benefit either of them.

"Ze opportunity for a comparative study is very fortunate indeed. Zis vill certainly allow better understanding of ze Commander's test results!" Odine paused, looking at Seifer with clear intent. "I must know. Who vas your sorceress? How vas ze bond ended?"

"Ultimecia," Seifer said, his expression darkening. "And she died," he added in a lower voice, warning Odine to reel in his curiosity. He stepped closer to the doctor. "I'll tell you what's going to happen," he said, his behavior erring on threatening. "I'll do the tests you just had Squall do so you can have your little comparative study, and then you _theorize_ and figure out how the hell to fix this shit. That's all."

Squall wouldn't have deemed it possible, but the doctor's eyes grew even wider with excitement. "Ah! I never did get access to zose files!" the man exclaimed happily, clearly unbothered with breaching comfort zones. "Vat was your name again? How long vere you bonded? And to vich of her incarnations?"

Seeing Seifer's eyes narrow warily in a revised examination of the doctor, Squall felt like supplying the blond with a dry "I warned you." Situating himself between Seifer and Odine, he forced the doctor's attention on himself. "Cut the questions. Finish my tests, and then we'll talk."

"You're not doing any more tests," Seifer interrupted resolutely from behind Squall. "He has all the information he needs."

"I most certainly do not!" the doctor exclaimed in outrage. "I am yet to determine vether his affliction is specific to ze GF Shiva or not. How are his summoning abilities affected? Vat of his magic defenses? Surely all zat is of importance. I do not even know vether ze Commander's incapability is limited to Fire and Ice magic. Ve have all but started!"

From his silently observing position near the door, Laguna didn't quite know what to make of the escalating argument playing out before him. "I'm not sure I've understood everything going on here, but this _bickering_ stops now," he interrupted sternly, making sure he had everyone's attention as he stepped further into the room. "Clearly, Squall needs to have more tests done." Spotting the instantaneous effect his words had on Seifer's displeasure and Odine's excitement, he quickly continued to discourage both.

"My son getting treatment; _that_ is the priority here," he emphasized, "not scientific experimentation." He eyed Odine sharply. "As for your curiosity concerning Mr. Almasy, you will curb it until a more appropriate time."

Waiting pointedly until Odine offered a reluctant nod, he then faced Squall. "We'll be right here on the other side. Warn us this time around—_don't_ wait to unjunction until it's too late."

Pissed off at his opinion being so entirely disregarded, Seifer cursed under his breath as he made for the door.

"You are forgetting ze GF," he heard the little imp call out behind him. Turning around, he sent Odine a deadly glare before focusing his attention on Squall.

"Take her," he demanded, his stance forbidding.

Squall studied Seifer's drawn features, unsure whether the man could handle the strain. "Later," he refused. "I can do other tests first." Remembering Seifer's earlier request and the doctor's assistant, he added, "You should take the antiemetic."

Clenching his jaw, Seifer narrowed his eyes at the brunet. He wasn't sure what pissed him off more—having his opinion so completely disregarded, or having his weakness pointed out in front of the others. "Fuck this. I'll be in the other room." Turning around, he stalked out the door.

Squall sighed and refocused his attention on Loire, the man watching Seifer's retreat with a raised eyebrow.

"Will he be okay?" the president asked.

Squall huffed softly. The blond would get over himself. "Temper issues."

Laguna nodded after a moment of consideration. "Remember what I said. Don't push yourself." Receiving only a blank stare from his son in reply, he reluctantly let himself be ushered out the door by Odine's impatient muttering.

In the other room, Seifer stood leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in a forbidding stance. The young man only greeted him with a narrow-eyed gaze, before fixing his attention on the connecting window. Thinking better of striking up conversation just yet, Laguna instead watched his son as well.

He'd already known Squall had a protective streak when it came to Rinoa and his friends, but he'd never seen it manifested quite so... immaturely. His son usually kept a more level head, backing up his decisions with sound reasoning rather than simply forbidding something outright. Seifer had been no better. He hid a smile at the behavior he'd deem cute in eight-year olds, but he sobered quickly when Odine finished his preparations and spoke into the mic.

"Name and junction ze GF with ze second highest compatibility rating."

/_Griever_./

Laguna held his breath as Odine repeated the same orders to junction and cast on his mark. Squall's eyes changed to that eerie silver and focused on the target. Again Laguna failed to identify pain or anything more than slight strain in his son's expression as Squall cast spell after spell. He knew about Squall's tendency to keep a tight lid on any feelings or troubles he might have, but now he realized his son was just as good at hiding physical discomfort.

Casting an uncertain glance at Seifer, the blond's deep frown was infinitely more telling. It seemed this man could look beyond his son's mask. "How do you think he's doing. The same as before?"

"Worse."

Laguna frowned at the curt statement. "How can you tell?"

"Years of practice with the fucker."

"I understand it you two were classmates? Rinoa told me you were at the orphanage as well."

Seifer furrowed his brows. "Which orphanage?"

Remembering how his son had only found out about the orphanage later in life, Laguna quickly realized the blond's ignorance, even if he didn't understand _why_. He would've expected either his son or his friends to have informed Seifer a long time ago, but then again, he supposed it couldn't be an easy truth to share, certainly so because of Edea's involvement.

He summoned a mildly puzzled expression and shrugged. "Ah, forgive me. I must have misremembered. You were classmates though, right?"

"Only in our final year," Seifer corrected as his lips drew into a thin line. He didn't remember his last year at Garden fondly, especially not with how it had all ended.

"You knew each other outside class then?"

"We were the only gunbladers at Garden. Didn't have much choice in the matter."

"I see. No choice but to spar together for years," Laguna teased with mock understanding. He doubted anyone would stick around his difficult son for such a long time, if not out of choice or some form of friendship.

"Well, he wasn't half bad with a blade," Seifer admitted as he watched Squall. A slight smirk appeared on his lips. "And he's fun to rile up. Takes a while to get him steaming, but it's worth the hassle."

Laguna chuckled. After what he'd just witnessed, he could imagine it vividly. "You do match my son in obstinacy, I'll grant you that."

Seifer's smirk grew. "I might be stubborn, but no one can match Squall on that front. The fucker almost froze to death because of it once, back when we were teenagers." Seeing the eager expression on the president's face, Seifer couldn't help himself from elaborating. "An instructor wrongly accused us for a stupid prank in class. We both denied it, but the guy made us kneel outside in the snow until we would confess. Blessed with brains, I chose cleaning floors inside where it was warm over freezing my ass off, but Squall... he refused to admit to something he hadn't done."

Seifer shook his head slightly. "Later, when I'd finished, I looked for him. I just _had_ to rub in how stupid he'd been for spending any minute longer outside in the snow than absolutely necessary." He huffed as he remembered the sight that had greeted him. "He was still there, his hair frosty and lips blue—in the exact same position I'd last seen him. He still wouldn't let up, all pissed off. In the end I had to get the instructor, who was, of course, horrified. The stupid prick had forgotten all about Squall... He went out and ordered Squall to get his stupid ass inside and report to the infirmary." He shook his head again. "Squall thought he'd won. Even when he was still suffering from a cold a week later."

Laguna laughed and shook his head at the story he hadn't heard before. "Hyne, that's awful...Sounds just like him, though." His gaze travelled back to his son, his own words catching up with him. Squall's tendency to disregard his health clearly wasn't a recent thing.

Seifer frowned at Squall's drawn expression and clenched fists. "He's close to his limit," he spoke lowly. Impatient for Squall to end the junction, he walked over to the window and banged on it loudly. When he had Squall's attention, he drew a line across his neck in an clear gesture for Squall to put a stop to the test.

Meeting Seifer's narrowed gaze, Squall swallowed thickly. For a brief moment he considered disregarding the man's warning, but already the edge of his vision was swarming with flecks of darkness. He could not manage it; a series of the simplest spells and he could not manage it.

He closed his eyes, unable to stand another second of Seifer's gaze, and unjunctioned. He let out a sigh as the piercing headache ebbed away and the darkness receded. Unfurling his clenched fists, he shook away the slight tremor in them with a quick flexing of his fingers and wrists. He did not dare look back at the window—he knew Seifer could see it all.

The speakers crackled alive with Odine's voice. "Zis vill not do," the doctor complained with a suffering sigh. "Commander. Ze apparent time limitation to your ability to junction necessitates a change in plans. Ve vill abandon gradual build-up." Squall could hear the man ruffling about, before the doctor relayed his new order.

"Ven you are ready, junction and summon immediately."

A faint protest sounded through the speaker, Loire no doubt, but Squall knew the stakes better than all of them. He needed to know, without room for speculation or doubt, how bad his condition was. Keeping his gaze fixed on mid-distance, he junctioned. The pain returned instantly, along with the dark swimming at the edge of his vision.

It was too much, too fast. Gritting his teeth, he refused to give in and summoned.

Griever materialized, not calm and menacing by his side, but stalking around him in a protective circle. The effort of maintaining the summon took everything out of him, his head reeling and the onset of a blackout already threatening to overtake him. Even as he felt it happen, he could not control the connection—his disorientation and frustration flowed into the GF's mind unfiltered, unguided.

The lion bared its teeth in a low growl and stopped its protective stalk to fix yellow eyes on the window, on the three men in the other room—the perceived cause of their captivity and its master's distress.

Crippled with pain, Squall looked on powerlessly as the beast threw itself against the window, the metal frame groaning in its bolts under the impact. The glass trembled ominously as Griever retreated for another throw, again and again. The noise rang sharply in his ears, and it was all he could do to stay conscious.

/_No_,/ he tried to convey to his lion. /_They are friends_./

Griever didn't hear him. The glass held, but the bolts were beginning to give at the relentless onslaught. Slumping forward, Squall clutched his hands to his temples and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Stop!" he shouted, doing something he'd never done before—unjunctioning while a GF was still summoned. It was like pulling out the plug; crude and immediate. Griever's shock surged through him as the beast finally disappeared, leaving behind angry claw marks on glass and concrete.

Disoriented, he tried to right himself, but the room was swirling violently. Dark wisps of fog licked a slow path along the floor, towards him. His heart ran cold at the sight.

A loud thud sounded as the metal door swung open and someone ran towards him. He couldn't see anything—only darkness. Bile rose at the back of his throat as he swayed on his feet, but then someone grabbed hold of his arms, steadying him into place.

Keeping a firm grip on Squall, Seifer watched as gray-blue eyes finally rose to meet his. Squall still looked like he was in pain, but at least there was recognition in gray-blue eyes. As the man stood perfectly still, he carefully let go of his arms.

"Was that...?" he asked, nodding briefly towards the floor, certain he'd just caught Squall hallucinating.

Leave it to the blond to notice everything, Squall thought uncharitably. He looked back at the floor, but the dark, curling fog that had swallowed his feet was gone and the room no longer spun out of control.

"Squall! Are you okay? That GF—What happened?" Loire was walking towards them, his face pinched and a slight stiffness to his leg betraying the onset of one of the man's more peculiar traits. Squall eyed it warily and quickly gave Seifer a covert nod in reply before Loire could notice the exchange.

"I'm fine," he reassured, taking a step away from Seifer's side.

Seifer snorted. Crossing his arms, he turned to face the President. "You still gonna push for more tests?"

Laguna shook his head, looking bewildered. "...No. No, of course not." He glanced at the observation window, to where Odine was scuttling from machine to machine, the doctor's attention riveted to his readings. "That was certainly not what I had in mind when Odine said he needed more tests."

Releasing a sigh, the president gave his now fully cramped up leg a stretch and returned his gaze to his son. "What happened?" he repeated, not bothering to comment on Squall's statement that the man was doing _fine_.

Squall had no ready answer. All he knew was that he'd had no control over the summon. None whatsoever. And he'd been only moments away from blacking out a second time. Years of magic training, all his abilities, lost. The image unfolded in his mind's eye; his squad looking at him for help, for the skills that would turn their situation around, but he'd be powerless. _Useless_. And the hallucinations...

This meant the end of his career, simple as that.

Feeling increasingly trapped, Squall was unable to remain still in the confinement of the concrete room, under the close scrutiny of the other two men. Avoiding meeting anyone's gaze, he walked towards the door. He needed air.

"Where are you going?" Seifer asked, falling in step just behind the brunet.

"Outside."

At the distant quality in Squall's voice, Seifer felt the weight of what had just happened. Stopping in his stride, he held out an arm and stopped the President from following his son.

"Let him go," he said, keeping his voice low. "He needs space." He let his arm drop when the president remained silent. "Squall had no control over his summon. It's just as messed up as the rest of his magic." Running a hand through his hair, he left the room.

In the observation room, Odine was glaring at the door Squall no doubt had just stalked out of. "Zis is ridiculous!" he exclaimed, his hands raised. "Of course, Mr. President! I vill clear my schedule for ze Commander, Mr. President! Vat else could possibly take precedence!"

Turning around, the red-faced doctor directed his rant at the two remaining men. "How am I expected to vork like zis? Vith constant interruptions, and now, vithout ze test subject!"

"Just do," Seifer said harshly, walking to stand in front of Odine with crossed arms.

"_You_ dare tell _me_ how to do my job?" the doctor almost squeaked. "Vat do you know of science?! Vat else vill aid your dear commander, if not my expertise?"

"_Odine_," Laguna interrupted warningly. "You will have to do with the information you've got. What can you tell us?"

"Zat ze commander is possibly lying," the doctor answered. "I vas surprised to find zat his case was so similar to previous test subjects, all but in one aspect. Hallucinations. The majority of failed hosts suffered zem, but ze commander stated he does not." Grabbing a printout from the other side of the room, he stabbed his fingers at the data and supplied thinly, "Zis strongly suggests otherwise."

He looked up at Seifer, his voice a sarcastic deadpan. "Shall I trust ze commander's word, or ze tests you so firmly protested against?"

Seifer glared at the doctor. He didn't want to expose Squall's secret, but couldn't risk him missing out on proper treatment either. "Just fix whatever the hell you think is wrong with him."

"Ze tests it is then," Odine said smugly. "As for any conclusions, I still have to examine zese last readings in more detail. I have never seen anomalies such as zese in a summon. Most fascinating!"

He pointed excitedly at a wildly spiking graph on the screen. "You see zis? Zese are ze first readings of its kind! Failed hosts from my earlier experiments suffered similar difficulties maintaining junction, but zey definitely could not summon! I speculate zat ze commander's extraordinary GF compatibility rates have been unaffected by ze sorceress' intrusion, allowing him to at least establish ze apparition of—"

"_Doctor_," Laguna interrupted, most of Odine's rant sailing right over his head. "Cut to the chase. What is wrong with my son? And what's this I hear about hallucinations?" He hadn't missed Seifer's evasive reaction.

All the while reading through yet another printout, Odine gave a vigorous nod. "Yes, yes. Hallucinating was one of ze main symptoms test subjects suffered from after an unsuccessful junction. A junction—" the doctor paused, tapping his index finger to his temple, "—is all in here. Ze host's brain is vere ze GF resides and zis comes at a price. Memory loss, yes?" The doctor fell silent for a moment, humming in distraction at something on a screen, before continuing.

"Ven a junction backfires, for vatever reason, certain types of trauma can occur. Too long exposure of an unfit mind to an invasive junction is particularly damaging, especially ven aborted. Like a leg amputated, ze brain must deal viz ze disappearance of ze GF. One could liken ze hallucinations to phantom pains, caused by ze sudden lack of sensory and magical input of ze GF in ze brain."

Gathering several printouts into a clipboard, the doctor turned to face them, his voice matter-of-fact."I have now sufficient data to verify zat ze sorceress' bond is indeed a junction of ze most invasive kind; ze knight is ze host, ze sorceress ze parasitic entity. And ze commander was exposed for over two years. I hypothesize zat we are looking at problems of dependency and trauma to ze brain."

Seifer balled his hands into fists. "What's the treatment?" he demanded. "And what about the others? Did they recover?" In the end that was all that mattered. "Would reestablishing the bond be able fix it?" he asked somberly.

"Any _particular_ order you want zose answered in?" Odine replied in mock servitude, but the rest of his retort was dissuaded by the president's headshake. Releasing a grumbling sigh, the doctor continued.

"Vit ze limited data at hand, it iz impossible to predict ze result of reestablishing ze bond. GF junctions and sorceress bonds may be alike in how zey activate in ze brain, but zere seems to be one big difference. Control. A GF relinquishes it. A sorceress takes it. Ze balance of power is inverted." Odine paused, his frown suggesting he'd come to a reluctant decision. "However informative its study would be, I would advise...against rebonding."

The doctor let out a wistful sigh, eyes pouring over his clipboard again. "Unlike GF junctions, ze bond does not seem symbiotic in nature; parasitic fits ze bill better. I dare even speculate zat a form of addiction is involved. Ze knight is made dependent on ze magic of his sorceress, ze access to his own innate magic cut off. Zat is vat ze readings suggest. And considering Miss Heartilly's problems are simply suppressed for now, not controlled, I vould not readily invite such a precarious bonding."

"As for ze treatment of ze failed hosts; it was very straightforward," Odine said, moving towards the intercom. "Medication to manage ze various symptoms, vile zey kept practicing junctioning and magic. Some came to tolerate junctions with varying levels of success, some failed but recovered once zey gave up practicing. Only a few suffered permanent damage." The last statement was delivered with a dismissive wave of the hand, as if such statistics were within perfectly acceptable norms.

"I suggest a similar approach for ze commander: medication and practice, under close monitoring. His system must fight off the bond's addictive properties; his magic must become self-sustained again. However— " Odine intoned, turning his narrow-eyed gaze to Seifer, "—If ze meds I prescribe are to optimally alleviate ze commander's symptoms, you must answer some of _my_ questions. Vat kind of hallucinations is ze commander having? Vat else has he been dishonest about?" He paused. "And wiz you being ze only past case, I vill also need to know ze symptoms you experienced after your Sorceress's death and vich of those have persevered until today."

Returning Odine's stare full force, Seifer wished he could dismiss the doctor's demand for answers with an insulting remark. He still didn't want to break Squall's trust and the brunet had been right earlier—no information about hallucinations could make it into the man's file. Nor could anything that tied Squall to himself make it in there. He hadn't considered the damage Squall's reputation would suffer if anyone found out about their current connection—about the Commander staying with the man who spearheaded the opposite side of the war.

"I'll answer your questions," he said, leaning back against the edge of a desk. "But there will be no mention of hallucinations in Squall's file." His gaze was firm. "Nor will there be any mention of me in there. Whatever you put in your files, don't link me to Squall."

Laguna frowned at the requests. He could understand why the association between Squall and Seifer should be kept under wraps, just like his own connection to his son had to be. The hallucinations, however—those worried him. Deciding to trust the blond for now, he nodded at the doctor to proceed.

Odine rolled his eyes. "Confidentiality is required of me daily, mister Almasy. I have no qualms about zat."

"... His sight, hearing and sense of smell is affected," Seifer said as he focused on what Squall had told him. "Like everything else, he hides it well. He's told me he has them on and off. Black fog, noise, that kind of thing. Sounds can be painful. Also..." He grit his teeth. "He couldn't recognize me when he first came to. He just reacted on instinct, like an animal. I cast Sleep on him and then when he woke up again he seemed like himself. I think he's had nightmares as well."

Laguna's eyes widened slightly at all the new information. Earlier, when Seifer had rushed in to assist Squall, he thought he'd misheard the man ask "Who am I," but now he understood. "Could it happen again?" he asked, realizing just how much Squall had downplayed his condition. "The lack of recognition, I mean."

Odine hummed lowly, nodding as he drummed his fingers against his clipboard. "Most curious. Zis never occurred wiz my previous test subjects. It must be specific to ze broken bond," he mused. "My readings indicate zat ze strain of ze broken bond does not allow for junctioning, hence causing ze peculiar state. It should be avoidable by drawing ze moment ze Commander loses control over ze junction—as Mr. Almasy demonstrated," he added with a disingenuous smile sent to the blond.

"Then, I'd say you have all the information you need, doctor," Laguna said, his thoughts wandering to his son sitting somewhere outside, or worse, having gone off somewhere on his own. "How soon can you have the medication ready?"

Seifer tuned out as the doctor started to drone on about all the pills Squall would soon be popping. When the doctor scheduled an appointment for Squall the following week and wanted to pen him in as well, he grimaced. The last thing he wanted to do was to answer more of the little gnome's questions and go through the tests himself, but the doctor had said a comparison would be helpful in treating Squall. Maybe he could get some answers of his own.

Agreeing to an appointment before work the following Tuesday, his eyes dropped to the pack of antiemetics on the desk and he couldn't stop himself from asking outright. "Is there any chance the treatment would work for me?"

Odine looked up from his schedule. "Hard to say, viz so little to base conjecture on. I vould not exclude ze possibility, nor attest to ze improbability."

Seifer pushed away from the desk. "I'd like you to prescribe me something for the nausea and pain," he said firmly, grabbing the antiemetics on his way out.

Eager to leave as well, Laguna turned to Odine. "I'll be in touch, doctor," he said, making for the door as well. "And send those meds right down. For _both_ of them," he emphasized, in case Odine's more vindictive trait would make him _forget_ Seifer's request. He hadn't missed the doctor muttering "oaf" under his breath at the blond's departure.

"Yes, yes," the doctor said with a dismissive wave of the hand, his attention already fixed on his screens again. "Until ze next family crisis."

Laguna sighed and let the man's attitude slip. Nothing short from funding cuts could keep that man in line—the downside of having a brilliant scientist under his direct command.

Joining Seifer outside in the hallway, in wait for the lift, he considered all that had transpired that day. He was grateful for the blond's presence, well aware how differently things would have gone without him there.

"I can see what Rinoa was trying to tell me now," he said, breaking the silence. "I wanted to take Squall in at the palace, but...well—you know how Squall is. He doesn't listen to me... Not the way he seems to listen to you." Meeting the blond's gaze, he smiled. "He wouldn't have allowed any of his other friends to accompany him today."

Turning his lips down at the corners at the unlikely use of "friend," Seifer realized just how little the man really knew his son. "He just wanted me to hear what Odine had to say. Similar circumstances and all."

Laguna nodded as he entered the lift. "Perhaps, but isn't that telling in itself? Earning his trust and concern isn't easy. Either way, I should thank you for helping my son. I can rest assured now."

Huffing, Seifer followed Laguna into the smaller space. Squall bringing him along had nothing to do with trust or concern. Just some strange sense of righteousness. But then he remembered how Squall had physically stepped in front of him as if to shield him from Odine and how the brunet had been thinking about antiemetics for him when the man should have been far more concerned with his own condition.

Following Seifer out into the lobby, Laguna's optimism flagged at seeing the blond so solemn. "Odine seemed confident about his proposed treatment," he tried. "Give it your all, and save the worrying for when all else has failed. That usually works for me."

"He'll be back to normal in no time," Seifer reassured, knowing he'd do whatever he could to make it the truth.

Laguna nodded as they came to a halt by the large sculpture in the large entrance hall. "Let's not forget about you," he said with a smile. "I hope you'll fare just as well." He looked around but there was no sign of anyone bringing down the meds yet.

"Seems like we're in for a bit of a wait," he said, glancing at the time on his phone. "You'll have to tell me some more stories about your cadet days. If I'm to believe Quistis, my son was nothing but a model student." He chuckled. "I suspect you have a more interesting take on things."

A smirk grew on Seifer's lips before he chuckled as well. "I can tell you a story or two," he admitted, his voice doing nothing to hide his eagerness at spilling Squall's dirtier secrets to the brunet's dad. "And trust Quistis to make Squall out to be the perfect student. You know she used to have a crush on him, right?"

Laguna's eyebrows shot up high. "I didn't until now."

"As far as the rumor's went, Squall managed to kill any romance early on by telling her to go talk to a wall," Seifer said with a grin. "I don't suppose that helped his nickname much."

Shaking his head, Laguna stiffled his laughter. "And what nickname would that be?"

"The Ice Prince," Seifer said unapologetically. "He used to keep to himself."

Laguna gave a slow nod. He'd already gotten the impression that Squall's friendships didn't predate the war. "I'm sure he still would if he had any say in it. Thank Hyne for stubborn friends, " he said, smiling. "So... others understandably called him Ice Prince, but I distinctively overheard _you_ calling him _Princess_."

Seifer smirked brazenly. "Yeah, he's always hated that," he said as his eyes caught on a lab assistant heading their way with a white plastic bag in his hands. "About time," he said, nodding in the direction of the approaching man.

"Here you go, sir," the assistant said, holding out the small bag to the President. Impatient, Seifer didn't ask for permission when he snatched the meds from the man's grasp.

"I'll take those."

"Thank you for your trouble," Laguna said quickly, smoothing over the blond's crass behavior with an apologetic smile.

"No trouble at all," the assistant muttered. "Those were the pills we had in stock, but Odine upped the dosage to fit the symptoms. We'll have new pills customized by next week." Keeping his explanation short, he nodded at the both of them in parting.

"Sirs."

When the assistant was out of earshot, Seifer eyed the president seriously. "Let me deal with Squall. On my own. The less people he has to deal with, the better."

Letting out a sigh, Laguna nodded. "I understand. It's probably for the best." He doubted he was the one Squall wanted to talk to right now. He'd already convinced his son to come to tests in the first place, so he wouldn't push his luck.

"One request though," he added. "Could I have your contact information? Squall tends to ignore phone calls." He already had the information—he'd read reports and files about everything the blond had been up to since his arrival in Esthar and more, but he made the request all the same. Reaching into one of his pockets, he pulled out a card. "You can reach me personally at this number."

Taking the card and borrowing a pen and paper from the President, Seifer scribbled down his own phone number and address. "If I don't answer right away, just leave a message," he said, handing the piece of paper to Laguna. "I'd say 'feel free to drop by' but I know that's not really an option given your job and Squall would probably throw a hissy fit."

Wondering just what Squall had told Seifer, Laguna hid the jolt of hurt the blond's words caused. "I'll refrain from unannounced visits," he acquiesced, the same promise he'd made with Rinoa. "That doesn't mean the two of you can't come to the palace instead, of course. I've been looking forward to having my son over for dinner ever since his leave started."

"I'll let him know," Seifer said, not mentioning just how unlikely it'd be for Squall and him to show up at the palace for a visit, as friends no less. He'd do what he could until the brunet was better, but he'd be surprised if Squall stayed for long.

Laguna forced a smile at the reply, not bothering to press further. "I trust you to make sure he'll take those," he said, nodding at the bag of meds.

"If he doesn't, I'll give him hell," Seifer said with a brief quirk to his lips. "Anyways, I better split."

"You better," Laguna agreed, extending his hand. "It was good to meet you, Seifer. You boys take care."

"You too, old man," Seifer replied as he shook the man's hand. "And good luck with running the country and all," he added with a smile. Before the president had a chance to reply, he turned and headed for the exit—time to track Squall down.

The man hadn't gone far. The moment he stepped outside, his eyes automatically landed on the brunet. Squall was leaning against the translucent fence not far away from the entrance, lost to thought. Seifer picked up his stride.

"We're done for today," he said as he stopped by Squall's side. He didn't get any reaction apart from gray-blue eyes raising to meet his. Brooding couldn't have helped the brunet's mood much. "You'll be fine. I've got your meds, so let's go," he said before starting down the path leading to the cars.

Squall pushed away from the fence and looked back at the building. Loire stood at the entrance and waved at him, giving no sign of coming out to say goodbye. Nodding at the man, he followed after Seifer with a frown. He hadn't expected for Odine to let go so easily of not one, but two guinea pigs. Going by the tense set to Seifer's shoulders, perhaps the man had just rushed out in a temper.

"That's it?" he asked when he drew even with the blond. He'd expected more tests, more bad news. The declaration that he would be "fine" seemed rather ridiculous at this point.

"Yup. You just have to take these pills," he indicated the bag in his hand, "and practice using your magic. You'll be back to normal in no time."

Squall regarded the far too large bag of meds warily. Waiting for Seifer to unlock the car, he slipped into the passenger's seat and stared ahead. There was no such thing as an easy fix in this world—he'd learned that the hard way.

"We'll both have to go in for a check-up next week," Seifer said, before passing the bag of meds to the brunet. Putting his key in the ignition, he pulled out of the parking lot.

Not missing the "both" in that statement, Squall sighed and brought up a hand to knead at his temple. The headache still hadn't gone. Not in the mood to instigate another fight with the blond over this, he looked down at the seemingly innocent paper bag.

"The pills should get rid of your symptoms, including the hallucinations," Seifer said evenly, aware he might become very familiar with Squall's gunblade after this. "Nothing will go in your file about hallucinations. Nor your connection to me."

Slowly turning to watch the blond, Squall felt dangerously close to the limit of his patience. "You told them."

"Odine's readings gave it away. There was no point in denying it—apart from possibly fucking up your treatment. Odine's test subjects had them too," Seifer said, yanking the gear stick up a notch. "I made him swear it wouldn't be recorded anywhere. No one will know."

Squall huffed, letting go of the matter. No one knowing would do him little good in the end if it was permanent. Opening the paper bag, he inwardly groaned at the multitude of jars, his stomach protesting in advance. This "treatment" of pills and practice sounded far too naive.

Pulling a random jar from the bag, he eyed his codename written on the label. "E. Vargha." Apparently Odine _was_ capable of confidentiality. The instructions written below however were far less innocent. "_Nightmares, night terrors, insomnia_?" he intoned incredulously. "What else did you tell them?!"

Seifer met Squall's glare head on. He couldn't believe the man had the gall to speak to him like that after everything he'd done to help the fucking icicle that day. "The truth."

Eyes narrowing, Squall turned his gaze back to the paper bag. He had no reply to Seifer's statement, not without risking bringing up the previous night and the very real nightmare he'd had. Mood souring further, he picked out another jar which read "balance impairment and vertigo," the recommended dosage 4 pills a day.

"Look, I don't know what happened last night, but I told them what I saw. To me, it looked like you were having a nightmare. I know you said you didn't have any, but maybe you just don't remember. Odine said sleep disturbances were common, so it's worth trying, right? I mean, you've been more tired—maybe nightmares are the reason."

Squall suppressed a snort. Seifer didn't know half of his sleep troubles, and he'd like to keep it that way. Dropping the vertigo pills back into the bag, he picked out another jar with a frown. Turning it into his hand, he had to read the fine print to make out its purpose. Some kind of magic stabilizer he was supposed to take throughout the day. If they were anything like Rinoa's magic suppressors, he knew he was in for unpleasant side effects.

He'd just take the meds he felt he needed. It was the only thing he had control over—the amount of meds that would be circulating his system. He didn't allow himself to think they might actually work. He would do without false hope.

Going through the content of the paper bag, his mood deteriorated even further at the high dosage he found on every label, but it wasn't the painkillers or stabilizers that caused him pause. Rereading the labeling on the inconspicuous looking jar, the words remained the same.

"_Big oaf_. That would be you, I assume," he stated dryly.

Watching the blond's fists clench around the steering wheel, Squall felt little sympathy for the man after he had blabbed to Loire and Odine. He returned his attention to the bag, pulling out another magic stabilizer, for Seifer this time.

Apparently the conclusions reached at the lab were promising enough for Seifer to place hope in the simplistic treatment of drugging the hell out of them both and "practicing." He looked at the paper bag with new eyes.

He'd known Seifer's nonchalance about his crippled magic had been feigned. As much as he didn't like the thought of exposing the blond to Odine's whims, he hadn't stopped to consider that Seifer might not share his reluctance to seek help.

"...You think these will help?"

"They did for others," Seifer replied without inflection. "The research on magic and junctions Odine mentioned—he seemed to think the bond you had with Rinoa was similar to that. Sounds like it did quite a number on you," he commented, pausing briefly as he overtook a car in front of them. "He said it was like a parasite, that you've probably become dependent on her magic and now you can't use your own... Hence the retraining."

"The hallucinations are like phantom pains—like your brain's way of trying to deal with the lack of input where Rinoa used to be." He shrugged. "I don't know." He ran a hand through his hair. "I asked if rebonding would work, but Odine advised against it. That was before he told us about the treatment and his past successes."

Squall mulled over the new information. He put little faith in Odine's "past successes" when he and Seifer were the first knights the doctor would attempt to treat. "And you?" he asked. The blond kept talking about the issue as if it concerned Squall only.

"Worth a shot," Seifer said, even though he didn't really believe it'd work for him. The doctor hadn't seemed convinced either way and Seifer's magic had been neglected for over two years—not the best starting point. But he'd take the pills and hope for the best. Even a slight improvement could change so much.

Squall's gaze fell back to the pills in his lap. _Retraining_. He thought back to the pain and disorientation he'd experienced in that white labroom, the destruction he'd almost allowed Griever to cause. He'd struggled with the most basic spells, spells he'd mastered at the age of twelve.

He'd always been ahead of the pack when it came to magic. It had been his only source of pride as a cadet, when for years he'd been scrawnier than everybody else, lagging behind in physical exercises. It had been the only thing to set him apart from other SeeDs at a later age as well, the only reason to feel _some_ confidence in his capacity as commander.

To have that taken away from him... Squall sighed and let his head fall back against the headrest. Retraining would be difficult, not only because of the physical strain. But then a thought occurred to him. It seemed unreal, an uncanny twist of fate, that for a second time in his life Seifer would be there, training with him. Squall glanced at the blond next to him. To know that the blond was in the same boat as him made his predicament a little more bearable.

"I know somewhere we can practice," Seifer said, wanting to get started as soon as possible. "There's an unused warehouse where I work. It would be perfect. We could start tomorrow morning."

Squall grew thoughtful at the suggestion. Seifer had already thought up the specifics for their training, when all he'd done was panic and flee out of the lab. He contemplated the location—away from civilians, just him and Seifer. He couldn't assume accidents like Griever wouldn't happen again. "...Okay."

"I start work at ten. If we get up around seven, that should give us a couple of hours."

In spite of his own lack of faith, Squall drank in the familiarity of the moment. Seifer hadn't changed in how he approached obstacles; charging them head-on and never accepting defeat. The blond's effect on himself hadn't changed either.

"Sounds good," he agreed, more than used to training at ungodly hours of the day and being pushed by Seifer into more and better.

"It'll be just like old times, huh?" Seifer said, a smile growing on his lips.

Not expecting a reply, he began considering the practical side of things. Squall was bound to want to keep up his physical training and get back into that as soon as possible as well. Even back at Garden, Squall had been ruthless with his training regime, hating to lose as little as a day's worth of training.

"You should sign up at the local SCTA for your work outs," he said, focusing on the traffic in front of them. "It's close by and should have everything you need. If you feel like taking your frustration out on something, there's even a training area with your usual fake monsters." He smirked. Back at Garden, if something had bothered Squall, he'd always been able to find the brunet by following the trail of missing monsters at the training center. The respawn timers' set intervals were no match for a brooding Squall.

"Of course, they're stripped of their magic for the sake of the lovely sheltered Estharians, but you can always draw the attention of a dozen for a bit of a challenge." He glanced at Squall. "We can sign you up tonight if you want. I gotta swing by there anyway."

Meeting Seifer's gaze, Squall nodded. He could use the physical exertion to distract himself, but he'd skip the monster area. He wanted to wield his gunblade in a training session that demanded his best—not some easy targets that gave none of the satisfaction real monsters did. Even though he was tired and not in the best of shapes, he knew what he wanted.

"Let's spar."

Hearing those words again—words that had always been a prelude to his best times at Garden—Seifer couldn't suppress his excitement.

"We'll have to be quick then," he said, knowing he couldn't shirk his duties. "I have class from eight to ten and after that I have to go in for work." They'd be pressed for time for sure. But to spar with Squall... It had been far too long.

Squall frowned at the mention of "class." Seifer hadn't mentioned any kind of studies before. The blond had never prioritized class over sparring either, luring Squall into skipping class more than once in the past. It seemed both of them had been forced to accept accountability for their actions since the war. Grudgingly, he accepted the imposed time limit.

"Quick it is."

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**A/N: ** Finally a new chapter! Sorry for taking so long. We skipped the beta process this time as that would probably have meant another couple of months before posting (with us being super slow and pressed for time at the moment). Something is better than nothing, right? :) If you spot any errors, do feel free to send us a PM and we'll try and fix it asap.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let us know if you did - reviews definitely inspire us to work harder on getting the next chapter out sooner rather than later :)


	19. Shifting Delusions

**~ Chapter ****Nineteen**** - ****Shifting Delusions ~**

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**[****Tiamat SCTA****, Thursday, 23rd of October, ****6:14**** pm]**

After a rushed drive and stop at Seifer's apartment to grab their gear, Squall tried his best to appear composed when they finally pulled up at the Tiamat SCTA. The blond had pushed the speed limit all the way there, and by the time they slammed the car doors closed behind them, the tension between them had risen to new heights. It was that old familiar anticipation, and having gone without it for over two years, he could admit to himself he used to live for those moments back when they were cadets. Everything else at Garden had been monotonous and routine, but never his sparring sessions with Seifer.

Squall looked up at the Tiamat building as they crossed the parking lot at a brisk pace, their gunblade cases and gear slung over their shoulders. He'd only ever seen the SCTA's Sphinxara division in the upper class part of Esthar. This building was older and smaller, but well maintained. A slow trickle of people entered and left the building, none of which Squall would have labeled as much of challenge to take on in battle. The casual greetings and sloppy postures were a far cry from Garden's sharp salutes and discipline. This felt more like a civilian school than anything.

His first impression was confirmed when they entered the foyer. Boisterous teenagers were sitting at either side of the large room, occupying tables and chatting loudly. There was no dress code or uniform that he could discern. There were also adults milling about with all kinds of melee weapons, but only a rare few of them sported any scars or signs of true battle.

Following Seifer to the reception desk, Squall raised an eyebrow when the blond introduced him to the receptionist as "Vargha," one of his favored codenames. He was certain he hadn't mentioned it to Seifer. The blond seemed to be on good terms with the receptionist, who rather dubiously granted Squall access to the training grounds with a lethal weapon, no credentials needed. All it had taken was Seifer vouching for him.

Squall started to wonder why the blond would need to attend any classes here. He doubted a facility like this could teach Seifer anything he hadn't already mastered years ago.

Nodding to the man at the reception desk, Squall let Seifer guide him to the left hallway. He could feel the receptionist's eyes on his back until they turned a corner, and wondered whether this was the first time Seifer had brought in a guest visitor.

Just outside the changing rooms, he wasn't sure he'd heard right when an exiting student greeted the blond as they entered. He didn't miss the perfunctory nod Seifer gave in return either.

"_Sir_?" Squall repeated dryly as the door closed behind them.

Seifer turned to face Squall with a smirk. "What can I say, the kids around here know how to show proper respect," he said, dumping his bag on a wooden bench. Squall rolled his eyes in response, just as expected.

As the man got out of his everyday wear and exposed pale skin, the true fighter was revealed: lean muscle and old scars. The worn black combat pants and white t-shirt Squall pulled out of his bag filled Seifer with anticipation—he knew exactly what Squall looked like in his usual training gear and it wasn't for the faint hearted. He'd lost count of the times he'd masturbated to that visual.

Suppressing the thrill at seeing Squall in his old gear, he grabbed his own bag and headed for the end of the room. "My locker's in here," he said, pushing open a door with a sign reading "Instructors only."

Squall halted in his steps, looking from the sign to Seifer. "You teach here?" It made more sense than the blond being a student here, but he'd sooner have expected Seifer to avoid all classrooms after Garden. Working on weapons seemed more in line with his temperament.

"Someone has to show the brats the right end of a blade," Seifer said with a smug smile.

Squall huffed at Seifer's arrogance. Taking the news in stride, Seifer's mention of a "class" made sense now. It also meant they wouldn't have to cut their spar short in order for the blond to hurry to some class at the other end of the city. _A gunblade instructor_. That definitely had to mean the blond hadn't let his skills slide.

When Seifer dropped his bag into his private locker and stepped aside for him to do the same, Squall noticed the uniforms folded relatively neatly on a small shelf. He looked pointedly from the uniforms to Seifer.

"You know what they say about a man in uniform," Seifer said as he wiggled an eyebrow.

Dropping his own bag into the locker, Squall snorted. This evening was getting more and more unlikely. Seifer—an instructor who actually wore his uniforms. The man wouldn't have been caught dead in his cadet garbs back in the day.

Closing the locker, Seifer leaned against it while waiting for it to lock up, his eyes dropping to Squall's hips. Letting them slowly travel to the brunet's eyes, he lowered his voice and spoke conspiratorially. "Speaking of which, when do I get to see you in yours?"

Squall blinked at the statement, blindsided by the sudden return of lewd remarks minutes before they would spar. Acute discomfort followed where Seifer's eyes had studied him in mock appreciation. Squall frowned. Apparently the novelty hadn't worn off yet for the idiot blond, and Squall knew his own reactions of embarrassment were to blame.

He refused to be an easy target like that. Hitching Revolver onto his shoulder, he returned Seifer's gaze evenly. "I'd worry about the fighter, not the uniform."

Still smirking, Seifer pretended to consider Squall's answer. "Mmm, you're right," he said, pushing away from his slouched position against the locker. "After all, the fun only happens _after_ the uniform comes off, right?" he added, glancing over his shoulder and sending Squall a wink before exiting the locker room.

Squall's grip tightened on Revolver's hilt. What had become a stain in his memory, a source of self-consciousness and self-doubt like he hadn't experienced since his early teen years, had apparently been bland and inconsequential enough for Seifer to turn into a joke.

Following Seifer into the hallway, he let his anger fuel his intent. A reminder of just _why_ he wasn't one to toy with was more than two years overdue.

Leading them out back to the monster training area, Seifer followed a path that would lead them to a secluded area away from any spectators. He didn't want any interruptions. Setting a timer on his watch, he glanced back at Squall. The brunet was following him in silence, a serious expression on his features.

He hadn't expected them to spar this soon, or for Squall to find out about his job as an instructor. He hadn't detected any bad vibes from the brunet after he found out—only slight disbelief. He'd always looked down on instructors himself, had always believed that if you were good at something, then you'd damn well do it and not spend your time teaching it.

He frowned. He would've preferred being out there, fighting monsters, doing missions. But for a second chance at making a life for himself, it wasn't half bad. At least he got to stay in shape this way. And boss brats around.

Nearing the clearing, he felt the adrenaline kicking in. It was always a rush to spar with Squall, and just like back at Garden, the fun started with the anticipation. He had no idea what Squall's moves would be like—it had been more than two years since their last spar. It'd be like a clean slate. All he knew for sure was that he'd definitely have a proper challenge. He stole a glimpse of Revolver. There was no way in hell he would be able to look at himself in the mirror if he didn't give Squall a proper fight. He'd quit his fucking job if it turned out he'd become what he'd always feared: a second rate gunblader that was only good for teaching kids.

With a grimace, he gestured towards the spot and moved back a bit before getting into his fighting stance. As Squall moved into place as well, he knew no more words would be spoken until one of them had been defeated. This was it. They'd find out if they were still on par.

Taking a few steps to the side, he tried to lure Squall into making the opening move. In the past he had been the one to plunge ahead without any reasoning or planning behind it. This time he wanted to see which opening move Squall would choose—it would speak volumes of the brunet's preferred fighting style.

Circling each other, neither taking the initiative, he watched as Squall narrowed his eyes. A huff followed seconds later and then before he could blink, their blades touched. They stood perfectly still as they watched each other over the crossed blades. He hadn't even seen the move, couldn't recall how Squall's blade had moved from its resting position to suddenly be pressing against Kronos. He grinned, excitement shooting through him. Taking a quick step back, he quickly launched himself forward again.

From the start, their dynamic was unpredictable. Once they got going and really gained momentum, Squall was a never-stopping blur of movement. Where the man had been reserved and cautious in the past, he now fought with an explosive energy that heeded no rules. Caught off guard, Seifer barely ducked in time to avoid a deep cut to his neck. Instead he felt a slight trickle of blood just above his collar bone.

Looking Squall's way, Seifer grinned and held his blade high. In the past, they'd learned to anticipate each other's moves so perfectly, they'd always trusted each other to dodge the more lethal attacks. No such certainty this time. That edge of danger sent his blood pumping faster.

No longer the hothead of his youth, Seifer circled and side-stepped, never leaving the increasingly frustrated brunet an opening. Squall hounded him, but he never gave an inch of ground, anchoring himself solidly. His parries and counters were met with flurries of attacks that left him perpetually on guard. A block, a low swing along Squall's blind side and the brunet jumped out of reach with a cut on his thigh. Eyes flashing dangerously, Squall swung Revolver deftly in his hands with a few fell swipes. The move was eager and showy, taunting Seifer in a way the man never had before. _Bring it on._

After that there was no more time for thought or analysis, only instinct and pure reaction. In all his fights, he'd never fought anyone as quick as the Lion of Balamb. They fought relentlessly, until sweat dampened down their shirts and their breath ran ragged—there was no settling for less.

It was only when the alarm went off more than an hour later that the world around them registered again. Dodging a low cut, he stopped to end the high pitched noise coming from his phone, only to feel a blow to the back of his knees. Unable to grab hold of anything, he fell flat on his ass. Watching as Squall walked into view from behind him, Revolver already pressed to his neck, he let out a low laugh.

"Dirty suits you," he said as he nudged Revolver away from his jugular. Getting up from the ground, not bothering to dust off the soil that clung to his clothes, he smiled at Squall. It had been just as amazing as he remembered. The years spent apart had only added to their mix, had made what was already his favorite pastime new and even more exhilarating. Squall had become more daring and hadn't resisted using non-gunblade moves—moves the man had shunned as cheating in the past. The brunet had even thrown in a couple of one-handed lunges with his two-handed blade. Seifer had ended up with a couple of cuts thanks to that. He smirked. He'd managed to get a couple of cuts in as well. For the entire time they'd been perfectly matched. If the alarm hadn't gone off, they'd still be at it, until both of them collapsed from exhaustion.

He looked in the direction of the SCTA, his excitement quickly dissipating. He didn't want their spar to end. He didn't want to teach when he could be _doing_ the real thing instead. He sighed before he met the brunet's gaze again.

"...I have to get going. I'm pretty sure Calder will be around here somewhere." He paused. "He could show you around if you don't mind staying until I finish class. He's a gunblader as well. My sparring partner. He'd probably jump at the chance to spar with you." He smirked as his eyes catalogued the sweat on the brunet's brow and the little nicks the man had acquired during their spar. "That's if you're not completely worn already, of course."

Too much in that dismissal irked Squall to ponder it all, but he cursed inwardly at the blunt honesty of his own mind when it singled in on three words. _My sparring partner_. The guy who'd seen him being carried out of a dingy hotel room, comatose and helpless.

A frown crinkled his brow. A spar induced high was still rushing through his veins, his muscles burning, and the thought of being dismissed and carted off to some second-rate gunblader after having fought Seifer left a bad taste.

"I'll sit in on your class."

Seifer blinked, unsure he'd heard Squall right. He couldn't imagine the brunet getting anything out of watching him teach. "... Okay," he agreed reluctantly, wishing he knew Squall's motivations. "Sure."

At the uncertain permission, Squall's impulsive decision not to be dismissed turned into genuine interest. The fact that Seifer didn't seem one hundred percent comfortable with him attending only made things that more peculiar. Seifer was nothing, if not confident. He couldn't imagine Seifer being any different as an instructor.

Lifting Revolver onto his shoulder, he waited for Seifer to lead the way. Whatever misgivings the blond had, the man didn't protest and walked them towards the main building. Halting in front of a set of double doors, Seifer nodded at the open doorway. "It's in here. I'll be back in a couple of minutes."

Squall nodded and refrained from voicing his surprise that the blond was actually going to change into a uniform. When Seifer disappeared behind a corner, he finally acknowledged his hunger and thirst. Sweat still clung to his skin from his spar with Seifer, his throat dry because of his ragged breathing earlier. Seifer hadn't cut him any slack because of his condition. After a quick draught from the drinking fountain, he retrieved an energy bar from the vending machine and wandered down the hallway.

He never would've imagined this job for Seifer—perhaps because of the blond's lack of patience; definitely because of the blond's lack of respect for authority. But now Seifer _was_ the authority figure, which probably made all the difference. A smile threatened to tug at his lips at the thought of Seifer donned in a uniform of all things. The unlikely sight would be reason enough to stick around for the class.

Thinking back to their own gunblade training, he wondered what Seifer would do differently from their own instructors and what methods he would honor. Dumping the wrapper of his unsatisfying dinner into a nearby trashcan, he walked up to the classroom. Inside, there were about a dozen students already present, others still arriving. He ignored them as he entered, his attention immediately caught by the large glass cabinets lining the walls of the well equipped training room. Each cabinet held a range of gunblades, different types and models on display, but it was the cabinet across to the entrance, furthest to the left that drew his gaze.

Hyperion, its design sleek and its metal black, retired in a glass case.

He remembered his conversation with Seifer and the blond's halfhearted replies. This was the place where Seifer stored his gunblades, and these were "the kids" he had mentioned. His students. Squall frowned as he walked past the cabinets, his gaze lingering absently on the different models on display. It was clear Seifer hadn't meant him to ever come here, to see this much of his life.

He came to a halt in front of Hyperion, the sight stirring up many old memories. It seemed wrong for such a fine blade to never see battle again, but he could understand the need for a new start. He brought up a finger to trace the scar across his forehead. The more recent memories of Hyperion were painful, so he focused on the good ones. The distant past of their training days had somehow gained sharpness after their spar—it had become real and exciting again, instead of something lost.

Seifer could still push him, drive him to be better and never quit. Mere hours ago he'd been despairing, and although his prospects as a SeeD hadn't necessarily improved, he didn't feel as powerless anymore after their spar. Even if his magic was gone forever, his body's strength wasn't. He would handle what would come next, because the blond wouldn't give him any choice.

When he heard the students' muted conversation die out abruptly, he took his gaze from Hyperion's cabinet to see Seifer enter the classroom. The moment the tall blond closed the doors behind him, the atmosphere in the room changed.

"You know the drill, guys. Get sweating!" Seifer ordered, moving to the center of the room as his students started a warm-up routine. He looked fresh and alert in spite of the intense spar they'd just had. His slightly ruffled hair and the slight cut visible just above his uniform's collar were the only tells.

Squall leaned back against a wall in the back and settled in for the rest of the class. When Seifer walked over to the boy who'd been somewhat halfhearted about his warm-up, Squall suppressed a quirk to his lips when the blond proceeded to loom over the boy and stare down at him until the boy was doing his warm-up at top speed, dripping with sweat.

As the blond moved around the room, Squall tried to look at the students through Seifer's eyes—the weak ones, the strong ones, the ones with potential, the lazy ones. He quickly picked them out himself, but he could do no more than that. He couldn't bond with students and find the right words they needed to hear. He wouldn't even be able to feign interest in their progress, let alone encourage them down the right path. But Seifer kept moving among his students, giving immediate incentive to pick up the pace where needed. None of his curt orders went ignored.

After ten minutes of watching his students exercise rigorously, Seifer walked back to the center of the room.

"Okay," he said as he looked from student to student. "Today we're going to look at different ways to trick your opponent into leaving their left side exposed." He turned to one student in particular, one of the less brawny ones, the kid appearing instantly uncomfortable at the attention.

"Brennan, get your ass in here," he said, pointing to where colored paint demarcated a central fighting area. "Everyone else, stand back."

As he walked the students through the different techniques, he gave Brennan the opportunity to show off some good defensive techniques, the boy's demeanor completely different when the demonstration was over.

"Okay, Matt and Devin, you have the floor," Seifer said, dismissing the first student without a word of praise. "Devin you're on the attack. Repeat the attack I just used on Brennan."

Squall stood quietly impressed. The kid named Brennan now stood among his peers with a straighter back, his hand firmer on his blade. He hadn't needed any praise, only the trust of his instructor not to fuck up. Confidence—it had also been the principal lesson of his spars with Seifer.

As the two new students put everything into the fight, Seifer commented from the sideline and made them repeat their mistakes to show the others more fully what went wrong and how to improve. When the two students started to get sloppy and out of breath, he called in another pair to take over. It was a good way to keep the tension up and have no one slink to the background as a lazy spectator. Everyone came up at least once.

But Squall knew that more than solid teaching methods, it was the command of the classroom that mattered most. Without respect, you were lost. Seeing how every pupil, even the least impressive of all, went out of their way to gain Seifer's regard was more than telling. Under the blond's watchful eye, there was no mocking of the kids who messed up, nor any prideful boasting. Somehow Seifer had transformed a bunch of loud, obnoxious kids into cadets—a little bit of mercenary discipline.

Caught up in the class, Squall didn't notice the newcomer until the man came walking his way. He frowned and kept his gaze ahead, hoping to dishearten Seifer's friend out of conversation, but no such luck.

"You two don't waste much time, do you?" Calder asked as he moved to stand next to him. At the odd remark, Squall glanced sideways to follow the man's gaze to the cut on his arm. Seifer had put it there after a risky move on his own part.

Ignoring the undue familiarity in the man's tone of voice, he returned his attention to Seifer's class. He didn't feel like small talk, the man's easy smile putting him on edge.

"I'm surprised to see you here. After how worried Seifer was, I didn't think he'd let you leave the apartment for at least a week. Maybe longer, considering how stubborn he can be." He met Squall's gaze, that irksome smile still in place. "Guess the urge to fight his old sparring partner won out."

Bristling, Squall looked away. More assumptions. _Seifer_ allowed him to leave the apartment. _Seifer_ caved into granting his discarded sparring partner a fight. "I fight or leave when I want to," he replied evenly, ignoring the glaringly obvious reason for his irritation.

A first crack appeared in Calder's affable expression, his smile stiffening. "Ah, I guess you've become immune to his ways over the years then."

Recognizing the awkward words for the save it was meant to be, Squall was unable to come up with a reply. This was exactly the sort of situation where Rinoa would have nudged an admonishing elbow into his side. At the unbidden thought, he fought the urge to frown.

"So, how long have you known Seifer?" Calder asked after a moment of stretching silence.

Perhaps answering an innocent enough question would get the man off his back. "For as long as I can remember."

"You know, he never told me he used to be a student at Garden. Until a couple of days ago I didn't know anything about his past at all... I guess you still live there? At one of the Gardens?"

Or perhaps not. Brow crinkling into a frown, he hummed in vague confirmation and kept his eyes ahead on the class. He didn't like questions about his whereabouts, his identity, anything that could make it into a tabloid.

"But you visit Esthar often?"

About to tell Calder he wasn't interested in small talk, Squall straightened from his perch against the wall when Seifer walked their way. The blond had better get him out of this unwanted socializing. He had no desire to befriend Seifer's friends.

"Hey, you up for showing these kiddies how it's done?" Seifer asked, coming to a halt in front of Squall and Calder. He'd noticed Squall's annoyance grow from the moment Calder had entered the room.

"What do you have in mind?" Squall had already done a few demos for cadets at the training camps in G-garden, but those had never involved a partner. There were Seifer's students to consider, their esteem of their instructor's ability, but he wouldn't be kept on the receiving end of the demonstration.

"Just a couple of minutes of sparring," Seifer said, eager at the prospect of fighting Squall so soon again. "I'll work in the offensive moves I taught them earlier and you deal with them the best you can, but apart from that, I want our usual game." He smirked, considering the more unpredictable side Squall had shown in their earlier spar, the side that no longer adhered to the rules. "You'll have to contain your wild urges and stay within the designated area though. Think you can handle that?"

"If you can handle witnesses," Squall replied easily, fully planning on delivering his _usual game_.

Seifer chuckled at the sharp reply—just like old time. "I'll signal the end of the spar by moving into my usual stance." He turned and walked back towards the center of the room. "Hey guys! Listen up! We've got a bona fide SeeD with us here today," he said, looking around the class before settling his gaze back on Squall. "That's right. First class too. Most likely the finest gunblader you'll ever see."

"Vargha, if you'd care to join me," he said, holding his hand out towards the centre of the room in invitation, grinning at the unimpressed glare that now graced Squall's features. "You've all just learned that if executed correctly, the moves I showed you will leave an opponent vulnerable." He moved into his fighting position at one end of the colored square. "Now watch this," he said as Squall entered the fighting area as well, immediately launching into an attack.

The next minutes rushed by in a blur of movement as they fought to come out on top. Integrating the moves Seifer had taught his students earlier into their spar seamlessly, Seifer tried to drag the spar out as long as possible, but it was over far too soon. Moving back into his fighting stance mid move, he didn't doubt for a moment that Squall would be able to stop his blade in time. Breathing heavily, he felt a soft touch as the edge of Revolver hovered against the fabric of his right thigh. He smiled. Everything had gone exactly according to plan.

Seifer turned to face his class. "On most gunbladers out there the moves you just learned will work. In order to win against the remaining few, you'll have to be in a class of your own. The only way to get there is to practice again and again and again." His words were spoken with passion. "Perfect your moves and only _then_ learn how to outsmart the moves. Know how you can tweak them to your advantage." He looked from student to student. "Unless you're blind, you will have spotted how I altered the moves slightly but even so, Vargha here managed to deflect each one of them perfectly. That's your aim. Know the moves. Know how to read them. Know how to tweak them." He paused. "On Monday I expect to see your own variations on each of these moves. I expect you to be able to see them coming." He gestured around the room with the tip of Kronos. "Now pair up and get back to practice. Show me you aren't complete imbeciles."

As Seifer returned his attention to the class, it cost Squall some effort to keep his equilibrium and not betray the thrum of excitement he felt after the too short fight. Walking back to his previous spot, he ignored Calder and leaned back against the wall.

"Good fight," Calder commented, his tone less chipper than before. "You seem well matched."

Trying not to seem smug, Squall hummed in agreement as he placed Revolver beside him to rest against the wall. When Seifer sent him a quick smile before resuming his teaching, he couldn't help the slight tug at his lips in answer. There was little that beat the thrill of meeting Seifer in battle. Even just five minutes of sparring with Seifer was enough to leave him winded, and he'd loved every second of it.

"I guess he learned from the best," Calder said amicably, apparently still fishing for factoids of Seifer's past.

Squall snorted at the ridiculously flawed assumption. Seifer had always been the one ahead of him, showing him how to _really_ fight, shaping him in ways no instructor had. But that was nothing he felt like sharing with a stranger.

The lack of an immediate follow-up question had Squall hopeful that the man would finally leave. A silence this strained would usually have scared off most people already.

"So hey, did Seifer give you a proper tour of this place yet?" Calder asked instead, having found his toothpaste-add smile again. "If not, I could give you one now... It'll be at least another half an hour before they finish up here and as much as he wants to, I doubt Seifer will be able to sneak in another spar."

Squall didn't have to consider the offer for long. He was fine where he was, observing the class and noting all the different facets to Seifer's methods. He'd recognized the influence of the only good instructor they'd ever had: Peyton, an old grouch of an instructor who was still teaching annual training camps at G-Garden. "I'm fine just watching."

"... All right. I'll go hit the gym then," the man said, pushing away from the wall. "It was good seeing you again."

Squall watched with relief as Calder finally left, briefly wondering at the platitudes of social interaction. He hardly believed it truly had been good to see him again. Squall surely could've done without seeing _him_.

Shoulders relaxing at the man's absence, he let himself be drawn in again by the class at hand. It was a peculiar exercise to try and imagine Seifer as these kids saw him—imposing and strict, yet approachable. Who would've thought the blond would make a fine authority figure.

The rest of the lesson passed quickly without any unwanted distractions, and soon the students filed out of the classroom, their gunblades held with trembling arms and with far less attitude than when they'd entered. To create a good soldier, you first had to break them, before you could mold them. Arrogance should only ever come with skill, a rule Seifer had stood by all his life.

Pushing away from the wall, Squall walked over to wait by the door as the last students left the classroom. A few stragglers had gathered around Seifer, asking some last pointers and advice, which the blond answered with surprising patience.

When they were finally alone, Squall felt that same thrill he always did when it was just the two of them, their gunblades in hand. He was tired, his condition taking its toll, but if Seifer would challenge him, he wouldn't be able to say no.

"You're good. Just as good as I remember," Seifer said, walking closer. "But tomorrow, as soon as I finish work, your ass is mine. No more ties."

Squall's eyebrow twitched upward at the overly cocky announcement, his hands itching to take up Revolver and continue their spar right then and there. Exhilarated for the first time in a long while, he simply agreed, "No more ties."

His smile broadening, Seifer turned and left the room. They both remained quiet as they walked back to the changing rooms. Inside the instructor's changing area, he punched in the code for his locker. Grabbing his bag, he walked over to the couple of benches inside the room.

Unable to help himself, he glanced at Squall as they began to undress. They were the only people in the room, yet the brunet's moves seemed measured—no signs of hesitance. Seifer knew they'd been in similar situations countless times before, but this time it would be different. He wouldn't be able to look at Squall without remembering what they'd done during their night of Avalanche.

Letting the rest of his uniform fall to the floor, he hooked his fingers under his boxers and added them to the pile of discarded clothing. Shower cream and towel in hand, he walked to the shower stalls, not waiting for Squall to follow. He let the water heat up before stepping under the spray of water and closing his eyes. The warmth provided a welcome relief to the tension in his sore muscles.

Not far away, he heard another shower being turned on.

Focusing on the flow of hot water, he brought up a hand to comb through his hair. Squeezing out some shower cream, he lathered himself up, but it wasn't long before his gaze traveled to the naked figure by his side.

Brown locks clung to pale skin as water cascaded down the brunet's body. Nothing was left to the imagination as he let his gaze drop to settle between Squall's thighs. When they had changed into their training clothes earlier, Squall's boxers had obscured his view, but now everything was on display… Remembering how Squall's cock had felt when he'd run his tongue against it little over a week ago, how he had swallowed the man's come—

"Pass the soap."

Seifer forced his gaze up and let out the breath he'd been holding. Squall's eyes were still closed. As the brunet wiped wet bangs away from his eyes, Seifer held out the soap.

"Here," he said, handing it over. He kept his gaze unfocused as Squall squeezed out some soap and handed back the bottle.

Returning to his own shower, lathering up once more, he stole a couple of covert glances of Squall. The brunet seemed completely engrossed in his shower.

As his eyes lowered to where Squall's hands were sliding across a firm stomach and pecs, he briefly considered offering to help out, but the likelihood of a broken jaw in return stayed his tongue. Turning slightly so he could eye up Squall's backside instead, he felt the beginnings of arousal. Fuck it, if Squall wasn't the sexiest man he'd ever seen. He'd been one lucky fucker to ram his cock in deep between those firm buttocks—to hear Squall moan in ecstasy.

As Squall washed away the last of the suds, the feeling of eyes on him didn't disappear. Glimpsing sideways, unable to shake the unsettling feeling, Squall froze. Green eyes, slightly narrowed, were fixed on his body in a far too thorough study. Just as quick as the heat that twisted deeper into his gut, Seifer's gaze darted back to meet his eyes, before he looked the other way altogether. As if nothing odd had occurred, the blond stood facing the spray of water.

Squall blinked the water from his eyes and snapped his head back to stare at the white, tiled wall. Going through the motions of showering, his thoughts raced. If not imagining things, he _had_ to be reading too much into things. Seifer's jokes and teasing had simply made him overly sensitive, agitated. Green eyes could just as easily have fallen to the floor or the drain. He'd often offended people himself by his supposed "stare," when they'd been the ones to stray in his line of sight while he was lost to thought.

Your _ass_ didn't _stray_ into his line of sight, his mind provided helpfully. His frown deepened.

During his younger cadet years, the approach to unwanted attention had been straightforward; ridicule was ignored, attempts to get at him physically were met with resistance and fists. This belonged to neither of the locker room situations he was used to.

Overly aware of the blond's proximity, Squall nearly jumped when Seifer turned to him brusquely, his expression steely.

"Okay, so here's the deal. I can't guarantee what just happened won't happen again. In fact, I can more or less guarantee that it will. With you being hot and me being gay, there's just no way to avoid it. So, if it makes you feel uncomfortable or, I dunno," Seifer's eyes darted to the side briefly as he scratched his neck, "...disgusts you," his eyes met Squall's again, "we'll just have to take turns showering... or I can use the student showers."

The matter-of-fact tone to Seifer's voice didn't come close to matching Squall's shock. As if it was a mere _practical_ problem of who showered where. Seifer was still watching him, expecting an answer no doubt, but he found himself incapable of stringing together a single thought.

"...You're gay," he repeated dumbly. "...But the Avalanche. I thought..."

At Squall's unfocused gaze and frown, Seifer grit his teeth. Of course Squall was oblivious enough to have missed the fucking _telltale_ signs.

"Fuck," he let out under his breath and took a step away, turning his side to the man. This was beyond ridiculous. He'd just outed himself to Squall in the fucking showers. There was no way the man could be so dense. Running a hand through his hair, he steeled himself before turning back around. Squall stood as if in a daze, lost to his own thoughts. Seifer shook his head. "Come on, let's deal with this somewhere else."

Squall looked up at the terse command. Seifer's expression seemed strained as the blond switched off the shower and headed back into the locker room. Blinking as he took in his surroundings again, their state of undress and the inappropriateness of their choice of locale caught up with Squall _fast_. Only now again feeling the drum of water on his shoulders, he numbly turned off the water before following after Seifer. A few more minutes of awkward exposure and they'd be dressed again, clothes suddenly seeming like a barrier he desperately needed to just think.

As he finally shrugged on his jacket, he felt a little more in control and a little less like he was being taken hostage by the situation. The slam of Seifer's locker drew his eyes to the blond who was already rushing ahead.

_...or, I dunno...disgusts you..._

Squall frowned at the words replaying in his mind. Things would've been infinitely easier if disgust was what he felt. Picking up his gunblade case, Squall tried to sort through the chaos of his thoughts and feelings. He followed Seifer without a word, and when the blond stopped in the lobby to strike a deal with the receptionist for Squall's membership card, he studied Seifer's back in silence.

In spite of their night spent on Avalanche, Squall would never have guessed Seifer to be gay. In retrospect he supposed the suspicion should at least have surfaced at some point, but then again, he'd carefully avoided to scrutinize his own behavior that night as well. It didn't mesh with the image he'd always had of Seifer. Back at B-Garden that same broad back had drawn the appreciative gazes of most girls, if not all of them. Even though there hadn't been any room for talk of love interests within their rivalry, he'd been sure the blond hadn't let such popularity go to waste.

_Maybe he hadn't_.

Disturbingly clear memories instantly reminded him of Seifer's skill. He hadn't lingered on it much, on the readiness and certainty that had underlined Seifer's every move and touch. After all, he'd surprised himself with his own reactions, but... It seemed obvious now, the reason Seifer had been able to manipulate his body's responses so effortlessly.

When Seifer pushed away from the reception desk, Squall quickly smoothed out his expression and took the access card from the blond's hand with what he hoped was composure. This was _not_ an appropriate time to dwell on the specifics of Seifer's touch. Outside, the crisp cold of the evening air helped soothe the heat he feared was now showing on his cheeks. He tried again, from the start.

_Seifer is gay_.

Was it ironic? Seifer had never been bothered by other cadets the way he had been. Tall and strong, the blond had been indisputably accepted as an alpha male among his peers. _Masculine_, while he had ended up with labels like "feminine" and "weak." He knew not to judge in terms like that. He _didn't_.

Slipping into the passenger's seat, Squall stole a covert glimpse of Seifer and reality started to sink in._ Really_ sink in. Just how much of Seifer's actions had been prompted by Avalanche?

..._With you being hot..._

Squall frowned. He couldn't really bring himself to consider those words. The only two to have ever commented favorably on his looks were Rinoa and Matron, both women, and he hardly thought Matron calling him "a handsome young man" at the age of eight counted.

To think that Seifer might not have been completely adverse to sex with him to begin with caused his thoughts to stagger in denial. He'd naively assumed that the drug could account for temporary lack of concern with the gender of one's bedmate, obscuring sexual preferences and able to make anyone seem appealing. That had been the go-to theory, giving him an excuse not to examine his own responses to a man's touch. Now all that had changed.

The sudden ring of Seifer's cell phone interrupted his disturbing train of thought.

"Seifer," the blond's gruff voice called in what was supposed to pass for a greeting. So Seifer _was_ angry.

"Nothing," the man continued, his voice not easing up. "Why are you calling?" Seifer's annoyance was palpable as he listened to the reply. "Look, I don't have time to talk right now. I have to go in to work tonight."

"I'll talk to you later." Not giving the caller a chance to prolong the conversation, Seifer hung up and appeared to forget the phone call the moment it ended. It seemed Squall wasn't the only one preoccupied with what had happened in the shower.

Fixing his gaze outside the window, he couldn't fathom how the problems troubling him had changed so drastically since the first time Seifer had brought him home to his apartment. It was as if they were unable to coexist without this tension, these miscommunications. Inwardly, Squall snorted at himself. How were they supposed to understand each other, if he couldn't even figure himself out?

He now had reason to believe that Avalanche wasn't potent enough to change sexual orientation. But that was it. For all he knew, it could still cause people to sleep with someone against their better judgment, or tastes. _Then what are my tastes?_ Squall's mind drew a blank at the thought. He'd only ever slept with two people and he really didn't want to compare them right now. Besides, could he even base any conclusions on such diametrically opposed experiences? He doubted pitting Rinoa against an evening on Avalanche was fair. But the question wouldn't leave him alone. _Am I gay?_ He tried to consider it, but if anything, he'd been convinced he was asexual—generally disinterested.

At the abrupt stop of the car, Squall was pulled from his thoughts and was greeted with the reflection of his own scowl in the window. Seifer was already out of the car, making his way to a take away restaurant right across the curb. Right then, the horrible thought occurred to him that maybe it was just Seifer that did it for him.

Never had he suppressed a current of thought so quickly and acutely. It simply wasn't an option. At the rising tension knotting his stomach, he decided he was through with pondering his sexual orientation. For the moment it was irrelevant. He wasn't in a relationship and probably wouldn't be in one for a long time to come. He didn't _want_ to be in one, so generally disinterested suited him just fine. Problem solved.

When Seifer reappeared, Squall released the death grip he had on his jacket just in time for the blond to shove a couple of hot containers into his hands. The appetizing smells wafting up from the takeaway boxes reminded him of his empty stomach, but the continued tension between them took away any hope for a relaxed dinner. Just as much as he'd regretted Seifer needing to prioritize work over him earlier, he was grateful for it now.

He glanced sideways, only to be met with Seifer's profile. Fixing his own gaze on the windshield as well, Squall's discomfort took on a new edge. All unwelcome trains of thought rejected, there was nothing left to distract him from the strained silence in the car and the blond's grave expression. Somewhere during his own panicked thoughts, Seifer had gone from angry to dead serious. Squall's frown grew. He hadn't given any reply to the blond's question whether this was going to be a problem—not the most elegant of reactions.

_Was_ this going to be a problem? He snuck another sideway glance, when his eyes fell on a box of takeaway set aside on the dashboard: Seifer's preemptive measure against another awkward meal, no doubt. He turned his gaze back to the by now familiar streets as they entered Seifer's neighborhood, and ignored his sudden misgivings. He _wanted_ the time to himself.

Passing the parking lot by the lift access point, Seifer continued around the block and pulled into a parking space across his apartment building. Squall turned to look at him, but the blond was still favoring the street view over meeting his gaze.

"I'll go to work now," Seifer said, needing time to figure out what the hell had been going on inside Squall's head all this time. He'd acted on the assumption that Squall knew he was gay from the moment they'd had sex. That's why he'd so openly apologized the morning after and why he hadn't even thought twice about flirting with the man. The inappropriate comments had been his way of messing with Squall and making light of the situation.

"Here's my key." He placed the small piece of metal on the dashboard between them.

Squall only now finding out the truth changed everything. Seifer had thought he'd already been forgiven for what had happened, but this would put their night together into a whole new perspective for the brunet. Squall would think he'd offered the man Avalanche purely because of his own selfish reasons. Squall would be disgusted.

"I won't blame you if you leave," he said as he kept his gaze fixed on the empty street outside.

Squall blinked in surprise. The single box of takeaway and Seifer's early retreat to his job started to take on a new meaning: a bow-out. Squall's mood darkened at the assumptions that must have led Seifer to this train of thought. He was _not_ as small-minded as to be unable to share a roof with a gay man, but then he remembered he'd said _nothing_ to that effect after Seifer's confession.

"I'm not leaving."

At the words the rigid set to Seifer's shoulders eased up. He didn't know why Squall would want to stay with him or how Squall could forgive him for what had happened, but he'd accepted it the first time around so he'd accept it again.

"Okay," he said, meeting Squall's gaze briefly. "For what it's worth, I really didn't think us taking Avalanche together would end up like it did." He paused. "I know I shouldn't have offered you Avalanche in the first place, but I thought after everything that had happened there'd be no way you would..." he trailed off, unable to actually say the actual words. "I didn't think the drugs could even do that." He looked out the side window, some of his annoyance with himself slipping into his voice. "And I really thought I'd be able to help myself. I really fucking tried," he added lowly.

"I—" At a loss for words, Squall turned to face the windshield. "…What happened, happened," he said, not sure what he even meant by the words. Apparently he still didn't understand just what exactly _had_ happened.

Watching Squall's averted gaze, Seifer held back a sigh. He knew it wasn't the most pleasant of topics and Squall's discomfort was clear. At least the man seemed to want to look past it all.

"So we're fine?" he asked, hoping to return to a more relaxed atmosphere between them. He wanted to get back to him not having to tiptoe around his sexuality and it not being a big fucking deal—to how he'd wanted things to be between them in the first place.

"...Yes," Squall found himself saying. It seemed a small offering amidst all the tension and awkward moments, but he needed this confirmation. If he could deal with the war, then he could deal with this, one way or the other.

"Okay," Seifer said with a nod. "I should get going. I'll give you a call when I get back, so you can let me in," he added, not caring to prolong their conversation. Some time apart would hopefully relieve some of the tension between them.

Squall gave a slight nod. Balancing three boxes of takeaway food in one arm, he got out of the car and retrieved his things from the backseat.

"See you, Squall," the blond said as he closed the car door and drove off, leaving Squall more out of his depth than ever.

* * *

**[Seifer Almasy's Apartment, Zayin House, Thursday, 23rd of October, 00:26 am]**

Squall sighed and leaned away from his laptop. He nudged his work glasses up to rub at the bridge of his nose, his eyes stinging from all the fruitless staring at his screen. In dire need of distraction, he'd resorted to his backlog of administrative work, but he'd had little success in the way of putting Seifer out of his mind and even less in getting anything useful done.

As expected, his inbox had been swamped with "urgent" mails, more than half of them sent and forwarded by a very displeased Quistis. He'd plowed through the most important stuff, but his mood had quickly worsened as he'd had to reassign his own upcoming missions to other operatives, while still having to confirm his attendance at the next meeting concerning Esthar Garden. Diplomatic nonsense like that was only barely palatable when balanced out with the thrill of missions. The prospect of sparring and training with Seifer was the only thing that had kept his mood from plummeting completely.

Closing down his mail box and several sensitive SeeD files, he got up from the couch and started to clear the remainders of his takeaway meal from the coffee table. He'd had little appetite. Placing the unfinished containers into the fridge, he made quick work of washing the utensils and leaned back against the sink in thought.

He had no hope of getting any true work done, his mind constantly wandering. Considering the next day, he didn't know what to expect of the proposed "training." After the tests at the lab, he didn't feel very hopeful about quick results. The meds would have to be potent, if they were to fend off the worst of his symptoms. Merely a few spells into Odine's examination and he'd been worse off than when first learning magic. And that had been just him. Was it even advisable for Seifer to try without having been tested first? What if something happened and he would be too incapacitated to help the man?

He shook his head at how his thoughts kept returning to the blond. He was tired, his mind dulled and medicated to keep the migraines at bay. He didn't feel like resuming his administrative work at all. Had Seifer indicated a time of his return? Taking his cell phone from his pocket to check the hour, he noticed he'd received several missed calls and two texts from Rinoa.

_- Message from Rinoa / 20:23 pm / Just off the phone with L. He explained about the tests and the treatment. I didn't like what he told me about the junction test. Be careful and let me know how things go, okay? Don't train alone. It's good you took Seifer along. L already likes him. -_

_- Message from Rinoa / 20:26 pm / And have that dinner with L. He came through for you today._

Squall scowled at his cell phone, before pressing the texts away. Loire wasn't his main problem—not after Seifer's confession. Just as before his mind was stuck in a loop, once again returning to what the blond had said. He knew he was missing vital information to come to any conclusions; even Seifer had seemed unsure.

_I didn't think the drugs could even do that._

Sitting back down on the couch, he placed his hands on the keyboard of his laptop. A simple search for the drug Avalanche quickly flooded his screen with countless encyclopedic sites, forums, and dodgy seeming reviews on experimental drug usage.

Having browsed several of the most promising sites, he found no conclusive evidence that Avalanche could distort sexual orientation. More so, the effects listed on most sites seemed disturbingly consistent with his experience. He skimmed the list for the umpteenth time, the sinking feeling in his gut worsening with each read.

Some of the effects—such as diminished fear, euphoria or increased self-acceptance—were acceptable enough, but there were other, less innocent items listed.

_Feelings of intimacy and even love for others. _He'd thought the emotions he'd felt—the warmth and sense of belonging—were a travesty brought on by the drugs. This item on the list seemed to say he was right. But… If it was only the drugs, then those feelings were supposed to pass. In spite of their strained interaction, he found himself wanting to be around Seifer. He cared about Seifer, at least as much as he cared about Rinoa. What he'd felt on Avalanche certainly eclipsed what now seemed like half hearted sentiment for the girl.

_An intensification of perception, particularly tactile sensation or touch, as well as hearing and vision_. Every touch had been intense, the sight of Seifer naked and the sounds of his pleasure etched into Squall's memory. If that had just been the drugs, then why didn't he trust himself to really _look_ at Seifer anymore? At the SCTA's showers, he had carefully kept his gaze at point blank, afraid of his own reactions in case he'd linger too long on the sight of Seifer naked. And in bed that morning he hadn't _disliked_ the body heat emanating from the blond's body, or the soft sounds of his breathing.

_Stimulation, arousal, and_ _hypersexuality_. Squall's frown deepened at that one. He _still_ felt a thrill, a heightening of awareness, whenever Seifer stepped into the room…

_Aphrodisiac effects_. His eyes lingered on the tail-end of the list. Seifer had _known_ this, but hadn't expected the outcome with someone he'd considered straight. And clearly the blond had experience.

Squall shut his laptop abruptly, disinclined to parse through yet another site that would tell him the exact same thing. Everything seemed to point in the direction of Avalanche enhancing experiences—not twisting them. It didn't say anywhere that the aftereffects lingered longer than a day. It was a week after the facts now.

It seemed that somehow his night with Seifer had affected him beyond Avalanche's capability. It had triggered something in him that he had no control over, which was more than alarming.

Squall slumped back in the couch, his heart tight in his throat. Nothing could come of these errant feelings, it _had_ to pass. It _would_ pass. He was confusing his contentedness to have Seifer back in his life with attraction. His body was merely remembering the pleasure of Avalanche, inappropriately so, and his mind was aching for someone to take Rinoa's place. That had to be why he was feeling this way.

It wasn't what he wanted. All he wanted was for things to go back to the way they used to be, to a time when difficult decisions amounted to nothing more than taking Seifer up on a challenge or not. To a time when he didn't need _anybody_.

He wouldn't let it affect him any longer. Whatever Seifer professed to—sexual orientation or otherwise—it had no bearing on him. They would proceed as training partners, and perhaps they could even become friends, but never again would he let someone so dangerously close as to let them have such power over him.

Mind made up, Squall laid back in the couch. The weight of the day came crashing down on him, every moment of stress and uncertainty paid for in tense muscles and a bone deep tiredness. He placed his reading glasses next to his laptop, and stretched out the kinks. He'd rest his eyes for a little while, until Seifer came back. No point in getting too comfortable when he'd still have to let the blond in. He wouldn't think beyond that moment for now.

* * *

**[Seifer Almasy's Apartment, Zayin House, Thursday, 23rd of October, 03:22 am]**

Seifer looked up at the building as he crossed the road. His eyes quickly found his bedroom window, but no lights were on. Squall hadn't said much before he'd left for work but it had been enough to know that the brunet wanted to stay, regardless of the lack of any real reaction to what Seifer had said in the shower.

He didn't know which conclusions Squall had come to. Only one thing was certain: everything was out in the open now. Squall knew how he felt about the war and that he wasn't a true fighter anymore. Squall also knew how fucked up his magic was, that he was gay, and that he used drugs to let loose. Nothing could come as a surprise anymore and the man just had to deal with it or get the fuck out. If Squall were to look down on him because of his sexuality or habits, then he'd tell the man where to shove it. The brunet didn't have much ground to stand on either with how quickly he'd succumbed to an all out gay fest after a single pill of Avalanche.

Watching the number on the display slowly increase, he waited for the lift to reach his floor while Squall's words repeated in his mind. ..._But the Avalanche. I thought..._

It meant Squall thought Avalanche had been enough to cause him to have sex with the brunet even though Squall thought Seifer was straight. An exact mirror of what he'd thought about Squall. If the brunet was straight then it made perfect sense to believe that to be the truth—it would explain the man's obliviousness.

But… he'd assumed the same about Squall even though he wasn't straight himself at all. And out of all the nights he'd been on Avalanche, no woman had ever managed to seduce him—and not for lack of trying. The thought of playing with breasts and pussies had remained just as repulsive to him then as it was when his head was clear. He frowned. Maybe Squall wasn't so innocent after all. Maybe he shouldn't have jumped to his own conclusions so quickly.

Standing in front of his door, he got out his phone and brought up the man's number.

"Hey," he said as a click signalled the line being picked up. "I'm just outside." Only receiving an acknowledging hum in reply, he hung up again. After a few moments, he heard Squall undo the lock and watched as the door opened. This should be interesting.

Stepping aside to let the blond in, Squall took in Seifer's grimy state with a raised eyebrow. The man looked as tired as he felt, his face dirtied with smudges of soot. Watching as the blond walked up to the kitchen counter to set down Kronos, he tried not to dwell on the scent of sweat that lingered in the blond's path or its effect on him.

Letting out a sigh, Squall tore his gaze away before the man would notice and returned to the couch. His mind was still fuzzy from sleep, half-remembered dream images of the blond luckily ebbing away.

Seifer's eyes drifted to the coffee table as he took off his jacket. A pair of glasses were lying next to a laptop with Garden's logo on it. "You been up late?"

Squall brought up a kneading hand to where his glasses had pressed into the bridge of his nose. "Catching up on work."

Unable to properly imagine Squall wearing glasses, Seifer walked over to join the brunet on the couch. The man seemed completely unruffled by their earlier conversation—back to his old self, apart from the visible tiredness.

"I finished the dagger I've been working on," he said at the lack of anything else coming to mind. He leaned farther back, relaxing into the cushions. "...You still up for practicing tomorrow morning?"

"If you have the time."

"Like I said, I don't have to be in until ten," Seifer said with a shrug. "If we get up at seven-thirty, we should have plenty of time." The prospect filled him with both excitement and trepidation. "We've managed worse."

Squall hummed in agreement, casting the blond a sideways glance as he got up and stored away his glasses and laptop. "Is the warehouse nearby?"

"15 minutes drive away," Seifer supplied easily, but then regarded Squall closely. "Guess we should be heading to bed."

Squall's eyes flicked to the bedroom, but he quickly looked back, aware of Seifer's scrutiny. He hadn't even considered the sleeping arrangements. The thought of joining Seifer in bed seemed far too intimate—nothing like the mere practical convenience Seifer made it out to be.

At the lack of reaction, the brunet stuck in place, Seifer nodded in the direction of the bedroom. "Scared?"

Reflexively irked at the implication he was a coward, Squall met Seifer's even gaze. "Should I be?"

Seifer huffed. "As far as I know being gay isn't contagious."

Aware the blond was testing him, Squall wasn't certain how to reassure the man without revealing his true reasons for avoiding the bed. "I don't care about that," he replied, hoping Seifer wouldn't call his bluff. "I was sick last night. I'm not now. I can take the couch."

"If you don't care, then there's no reason to break your back," Seifer retorted.

Squall groaned inwardly at the blond's obstinacy. "I've slept in worse places."

"Don't be a dick, Squall. I'm offering to share my bed here," Seifer said, pushing forward in his seat. "Believe me, I know what the couch is like."

Backed into a corner, Squall could no longer refuse without seeming like a blatant homophobe. "_Fine_."

Having won that round, Seifer got up and walked to the kitchen. "Want a shot of something before heading to bed?"

Squall raised an eyebrow, not about to imbibe right before joining the blond in bed. Even now, the taste and scent of Galbadian Bluewhistle reminded him of sex. He nodded at the brown bag of meds, from which he'd already taken his first helping.

"Better not."

Humming in agreement, Seifer helped himself to a large shot of one of his older whiskeys. He wasn't completely done with Squall yet. The man might have agreed to share a bed with him and thereby showed that he didn't have a problem with Seifer's sexuality, but that didn't mean the topic was closed. He had a question for Squall that he needed answered and the only way to get it was to give the man something in return. "You got any questions for me?" he asked, making an offer he'd never granted anyone else.

Squall frowned, uneasy at the thought of talking about any of it. "It's not my business."

"... Can I ask _you_ something?" Seifer asked when Squall didn't take the bait.

"Within reason," Squall replied cautiously.

"It's not." Seifer poured himself another shot. "If you answer, I'll answer any of your questions—your business or not."

"Quit the sales pitch, Seifer. I don't need to know anything, and neither do you."

"You're such a killjoy, you know that?" Seifer said with a shake of his head. He couldn't believe there wasn't anything Squall wanted to know after finding out he was gay. If it had been the other way around, the questions would never have ceased, but apparently merely the fear of what Seifer might want to know in return was enough to scare the brunet off. "I'm just curious. What's the harm in telling me something?"

Squall rolled his eyes at the blond feigning harmlessness. "You already know more than enough about my private life."

"Alright, suit yourself," Seifer said, placing his empty shot glass on the counter. "All I wanted to know was whether or not you've had sex with other men."

Squall's mind ground to a halt at the bluntness of Seifer's words. "Why does that matter?" he said tersely, fearing the blond's conclusions either way. "Would it stroke your ego to hear me say no?"

"Perhaps," Seifer admitted, annoyed Squall's reaction hadn't given anything away. "I'm just trying to figure out what happened."

"How about we try to _forget_ what happened," Squall suggested, cringing inwardly. Seifer meant he was trying to figure out why Squall had given in, and he wasn't about to tell the man. Wanting the evening and the discussion to end, he walked towards the bedroom.

Following Squall into the other room, Seifer watched the man closely. Trying to get the answer from Squall was a dead end and attempting to read the man wasn't helping much either. "Sure," he agreed reluctantly, deciding on another approach.

As Seifer started to casually undress a little distance away from him, after the day they'd just had, Squall felt ready to admit defeat and go stay with Loire. With all the self-control he could muster, he feigned composure and started to undress as well. One methodical move after the other, he got down to just his boxers and one of Seifer's shirts, as if nudity around the blond didn't matter. He fixed his eyes on his task and nothing else, not about to risk a repeat of the locker room incident.

With no reaction from Squall whatsoever to his impromptu strip down, Seifer got out a white t-shirt and walked into the bathroom. Deflated at not even catching a single glimpse sent his way, he finished his bedtime ritual in record time. His assumption of Squall being straight seemed the most likely at this point.

Back in the other room, Squall strode past him and entered the bathroom instead. Turning off the lights, he walked over to the bed and got in. Maybe it would be a bit weird to share after all. It'd probably mean he'd spend the first hour or two fantasizing about what they _could_ be doing in bed instead of sleeping and even with the meagre amount of of blue light spilling in from the world outside, Squall would easily be able to see his excitement if he got carried away.

Forcing his mind into a blank when the door to the bathroom opened again, Seifer turned to lie on his side. "I've set the alarm," he said and closed his eyes, shutting the brunet out.

Humming his acknowledgment, Squall moved to settle in on the other side of the bed. It was beyond strange. At least the previous night he'd been too out of his mind to be aware of his bed partner most of the time. Now his actions had gained a feel of premeditation, as if his subconscious was hoping for more and was trying to trick him, regardless of his wishes or decisions.

Suppressing a sigh, he turned his back to Seifer and tried to get comfortable. The task seemed impossible, the warmth of the blond's body already seeping into the covers and spreading to Squall's side of the bed. Forcing his eyes closed, he wondered if perhaps he should've accepted that drink after all, side effects be damned.

Morning could not come soon enough.


	20. New Perspectives

**~ Chapter Twenty - ****New Perspectives ~**

* * *

**[Arc Balios' Weapon Shop, Tiamat District, Friday, 24th of October, 8:17 am]**

Squall watched as the increasingly run-down buildings of Esthar's old industrial district sped by the car's window. The high-gloss metal and concrete high-rises had made room for smaller, brick buildings and factories that went all the way back to Esthar's more humble beginnings.

It seemed odd to open a weapon shop so far removed from the city's busiest trade and business districts, but it served their purpose to train their volatile magic in a more remote part of the city. He couldn't afford another incident like the one with Griever in a populated area. The warehouse Seifer had mentioned would hardly be as secure as Odine's lab, but at least there would be minimal collateral damage in case something happened.

Impatient to get started, he focused to keep his poise. In spite of their doubtful chance at success, he wanted to find out whether his future as a commander and a SeeD stood any chance at all. Glancing next to him, he took in Seifer's serious expression, the man's hands tight on the wheel. Conversation had been scarce since they left the apartment, the drive to Seifer's workplace passing in silence.

When the blond finally pulled into a small private road next to an unremarkable storefront, Squall sat up straighter. An old sign that said "Weapons" in peeling paint was all that marked the place as a weapon shop, its windows too dirty to assess the quality of the weapons hidden from view. Squall glanced at Seifer with a raised eyebrow, but the man only seemed amused.

The gravel of the driveway extended all the way to the courtyard, grinding beneath the tires when Seifer brought the car to a stop. Getting out, Squall studied Seifer's second place of employment. The u-shaped building that encompassed most of the yard didn't add any luster to his first impression, but Seifer was already waving him over to the large building to the left.

"It's over here."

Following after the blond, Squall stepped over the wall and craned his neck to take in the large hangar constructed from metal plating. It was far larger than the warehouses they'd driven by on their way there, but it wasn't any newer. As they entered, Squall set down his gunblade case by the large entrance doors and walked farther inside, his footsteps echoing along the concrete floor and high-above ceiling. Behind him, Seifer switched on a series of ceiling lights, some of them dying again after a few flickers.

The debris and rust told him the building was abandoned, sunlight peaking through holes where the roof plates had given way, but the hangar's size was considerable. There were only a few crates stored at the far back, the place otherwise completely empty. It would suit their needs perfectly.

"I used to train here," Seifer said as he followed Squall's gaze around the hangar. "No one ever comes here. We won't have to hold back."

Nodding his approval, Squall turned around to face the blond. "Is your boss in?"

"Probably." Seifer glanced in the direction of the entrance. "He won't hear. And if he does, he won't care." He walked over to Squall, the impatience in the brunet's eyes contagious. From the moment Squall had woken him up, the man had been unable to hide his eagerness at getting started with their training. Squall had even put out coffee and Odine's pills for him back at the apartment just to speed things up. "You ready?"

Squall nodded. "Who goes first?"

"You," Seifer said and moved to stand at the side, but immediately stopped in his path when he felt Shiva stir in his mind. Squall's eyes were glazed over, a faraway expression on the man's features. "You can draw her."

Quirking an eyebrow at Seifer's astute observation, Squall stepped over to the blond. He didn't want to do this with any other GF, but another invasive draw without the blond's consent had been out of the question.

Seeking out the ice goddess, he found her easily. Restless at his first touch, she settled down quickly when he started to draw her. Remaining calm, she let herself be drawn smoothly. The medication dulled most of the discomfort, but he kept a close eye on Seifer's expression regardless.

His eyes closing on reflex, Seifer waited for the usual pain to manifest itself, but it never came. The cold magic around him was already starting to dissipate, Shiva no longer in his head. Opening his eyes to see if Squall was all right too, he smiled broadly when the brunet gave him an acknowledging nod in return.

Taking a steeling breath, Squall stepped farther into the hangar, a safe distance away from Seifer and any load bearing structures. He pushed away the memories of sharp pain and started to pull Shiva into a junction with him. She followed willingly, soft and gentle as she took root in his brain. There was an immediate pressure pushing against the inside of his skull, but it remained dull and bearable.

Opening his eyes, Squall looked Seifer's way to let him see the color of his eyes—reassurance that he'd achieved a stable junction. At the man's nod, he turned to face the interior of the hangar and brought up his left hand in the focusing gesture he'd been taught at day one of magic training. It'd been a long time since he'd needed to resort to such a novice trick.

_Blizzard first_, he decided, sticking to familiar territory. Projecting the magic's path to collide with a streak of sunlight, he gave Shiva a warning nudge and released the node of energy stored in the recesses of his mind. The pain was instant, but not crippling. When the crystalline shapes of ice materialized right where he'd intended, scattering the dusty beam of light in all directions, he let go of the breath he'd been holding and immediately readied another spell.

The process wasn't without pain, but the medication did its job, allowing him to maintain focus and control. With each new Blizzard that sprang to life, intersecting with different beams of light around the hangar, his head throbbed a bit more insistently, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. He relished the unnatural cold that rushed all the way to where he was standing, the air crisp and laden with the crackling atmosphere of magic.

Feeling bold, he aimed for the exact centre of the hangar and released a Blizzara. Though the casting time was delayed, the accuracy was far better than anything he'd managed at Odine's lab. Shiva began to stir in the junction, judging it safe to move around more freely after his initial success.

As he let go of another Blizzara, she breathed some of her own ice into the spell. Inaudible as her laughter would be to bystanders, he could hear it echo clearly in the cracks and chimes of the materializing crystals. This was how it was _supposed_ to be.

Hopeful for the first time in a while, he started into a slow series of Blizzara's, focusing on timing. The building pain was a small price to pay for the elation of falling back into perfect synchronicity with his ice goddess. Setting off one spell after the other, well-timed and evenly spaced, he startled when a burst of Fire erupted against the ice crystals he'd just conjured, creating a hiss of steam.

For an instant his heart dropped at what looked like his magic acting up, but then he remembered Seifer and looked behind him. The bastard just sent him a cocky smirk, the man's eyes glowing a dark amber.

Immediately setting off another Fira to try and best Squall, Seifer tugged at the sluggish mental connection with Bahamut. When the flames lit up close to where Squall had been aiming his spells, but no ice spells manifested, Seifer jutted out his chin. "Think you can beat me?"

He didn't delay before focusing on his next spell, uncaring he only had nine Firas left. The air combusted into flames, soon met by sharp ice crystals. As before, the loud hiss of clashing elements resounded in the hangar, leaving only a thin mist in its wake.

Their timing wasn't perfect. Sometimes the ice appeared first, sometimes the flames. The spells took longer than usual, but the fact they were able to cast them at all was all that mattered. They could retrain like this. Mixing up his spells, Seifer focused on thunder and fire based magic. Those spells had always been his favorite—the louder, the better.

After a while of setting spells off next to each other, Seifer stole a glimpse of the brunet. Squall didn't look half as affected as the previous day—the difference was amazing. It felt incredible being able to cast again after so long.

Next time Arc sent him out he'd be able to collect the materials for the weapons himself instead of just traveling around to buy them. He'd finally get to feel the adrenaline rush of taking on far too many monsters at once without a shred of fear. There'd always be a GF who had his back in case things went south. He'd be able to slay monster after monster without carrying endless potions around.

He couldn't wait to return to the field again, and by the look of things he'd have to hunt down some monsters _very_ soon. Most of his spells were down to single digit stores. Two years of neglecting his supply and selling off potent magic to anyone who'd buy it didn't make for an impressive collection.

Already running low on his favorite low level spells, he decided to tap into another area. He had tons of Cures, some of the only leftovers from his cadet days. He'd used up the more potent healing spells during the war and afterwards he'd downed potions instead.

Waiting for the usual healing tingle to suffuse his body, he watched the blue lights flicker around him. It was a breathtaking experience, just like the first time he'd cast it as a teenager. All aches disappeared, only a very slight headache returning after the spell completed. Looking Squall's way, he smiled.

Distracted from his own casting when Seifer's attack spells had ceased, Squall met the man's gaze and quirked his lips at the dying embers of the Cure spell. The man's elation was understandable after over two years of magical impotence. He'd only gone without magic for little over a week himself, but the time spent cut off from Shiva had felt like forever.

The ice goddess clearly felt the same. Her initial consideration had quickly given way to exuberant participation in every little spell, and although it added a satisfying spice to his magic, it also wore him down all the faster. He sighed and kneaded at his temples. His headache had gained a vicious edge that was difficult to ignore, and he wouldn't push himself as far as blacking out.

Whispering an inward apology to the GF for unjunctioning so soon, he swallowed down his pride and withdrew to the side of the hangar for a break. He didn't miss Seifer's frowning glance at his retreat, but the man refrained from comment and turned his attention back to his own training.

Sitting down, Squall leaned back against the metal plated wall and rested his elbows on raised knees. It was annoying to be temporarily benched while the blond continued on, but all things considered, he couldn't complain. He hadn't even expected to complete a simple set of Blizzards, but he'd managed far more than that.

Seifer was faring even better, time perhaps already having healed the most acute damage while his own neural trauma was still recent. It was encouraging to see the blond like that—his eyes glowing, the occasional smile or grin illuminating his expression after a successful spell.

Settling back to watch the blond train while his migraine slowly receded, Squall felt glad for the easy companionship between them. Just the evening before, he wouldn't have thought it possible. Even just that morning, he'd been doubting his decision to stay in the man's apartment, bed or even vicinity for any length of time.

Squall frowned at the memory of how he'd woken up that morning. The blond had managed to sleep right through the alarm, but Squall'd had no such luxury. Seifer had sidled up to him even closer than the night he'd had his nightmare, the man's arm draped all over him, his entire body pressed far too close. And to think Seifer had grilled him for his hesitance the evening previous—homophobic or not, there was nothing innocent or platonic about waking up to someone else's morning wood.

The few seconds of stunned arousal that had delayed his retreat from the bed had been far worse however. Once his brain had woken enough to realize the inappropriateness of his response, he'd darted out of the bed with self-incriminating urgency, but luckily Seifer hadn't woken. Sighing at his body's betrayal, Squall quickly refocused his gaze from Seifer's form to what the man was actually _doing_.

His frown grew when he realized Seifer's spells had become increasingly... unimpressive. The timing was still as good as was to be expected, the execution flawless, but he'd grown accustomed to Seifer preferring more flashy shows of magic. The boring repetition of supportive spells was only rarely interrupted with an errant Fira or Thundara.

As he watched the blond Dispel a self-cast layer of Protect and Shell yet again, Squall wondered if something was wrong. By now, he would've expected Seifer to have blown out the plated walls already, or to have singed the concrete floor with fire.

Quickly drawing Shiva into junction, Squall cast a perfectly timed Protect spell to intercept the blond's own identical spell. "Predictable doesn't suit you," he called out when the clashing spells died out.

Cursing inwardly, Seifer avoided Squall's gaze. "Then let's see you do better than this," he said, casting his only Tornado in the middle of the hangar, quickly followed by a Quake. Glancing over his shoulder, he knew he hadn't managed to distract Squall when the brunet got up from the floor with a frown.

Waiting until the last tremor of the Quake spell had dissipated, Squall inwardly scoffed at the poor diversion tactic and readied a Scan spell—Seifer really shouldn't be casting high level spells like Tornado if he was having any kind of trouble. When the magic enveloped the blond and drew its information, Squall raised an eyebrow at the feedback from the spell.

Slightly elevated heartbeat indicating mild exertion, prime physical responses, no injury, elemental favor for Fire and Thunder, addled magic abilities, three GFs—everything was as it should be, except for the man's spell stock.

Glaring at Squall as the Scan came to an end, Seifer squared his shoulders. "_Satisfied_?"

Not about to apologize for his misinterpretation of the situation, Squall walked up to the blond. "Draw what you need," he said, opening his mind to the exchange. "Fifty fifty."

Seifer scrutinized the man in front of him. He and Squall had been rivals throughout their teenage years, enemies after that, and now Squall was offering him half of his spells, worth countless hours of field time or loads of Gil. Aside from Ultimecia, no one had ever offered him anything of this magnitude. "What do you want in return?"

"Just draw, Seifer."

Not about to risk the man changing his mind, Seifer started the repetitive process. Beginning with his favorites, he soon had a better supply than he'd ever been patient enough to collect himself. Finishing up with some of the more lethal spells, some of them extremely hard to find, he shook his head at the big numbers he still got from the draw.

"Always prepared, huh?" he said when the tendrils of their connection finally died out. "I owe you one."

"You don't owe me anything."

"How about I take you out for dinner in return?" Seifer asked as he drew up the corners of his lips, still at a loss as to why the brunet would go through so much trouble for him.

Casting Seifer a frowning glance, Squall suspected another bad joke. In his experience being taken out for dinners meant forced bonding, usually ending up with him sitting through Rinoa's strained efforts at creating a "romantic" atmosphere or Loire's well-meaning babble for an entire evening.

"I'd rather spar," he shot back, turning his gaze away to cast a Water.

"It's settled then—first a spar and then dinner." Seifer said, grinning. "Look on the bright side: even if you lose, you won't have to pay." Squall's outraged huff and eyeroll in reply only added to his amusement. If the brunet thought he'd be on the winning side of their spar that evening, the man was dead wrong. There was no way in hell he'd let that happen.

Watching as tendrils of water burst forth from thin air, fusing into a twisting mass at the brunet's command, Seifer was eager to go all out with his newly acquired spells. It wouldn't do to start with anything less than a Firaga. As the ball of fire lit up the room and heated his face, he immediately repeated the spell. He'd forgotten the rush that came with magic.

Time disappeared as spell after spell came to life in the hangar. He loved seeing Squall's ice crystals take form just as much as the sound of his own loud blasts. Casting required much more concentration than he remembered, and a lingering ache still grew with each spell, but it wasn't anything that could stop him from enjoying every second of it. Setting off another Thundara, he imagined he was out in the field. It had been years since he'd attempted fighting a high level monster. There was something uniquely satisfying about bringing down a creature that took over an hour to kill.

Moving on to a series of buffs and debuffs, he smiled at just how different his life would be now. With an Esuna and Cure on hand, nights of debauchery would no longer result in feeling crappy. He couldn't wait to try it out.

"It's past ten."

Concentration broken, Seifer's Thundara manifested a couple of feet from where he'd planned it. "By how much?" he asked, not waiting for the reply as he cast another spell.

"Twenty minutes."

Seifer nodded, aware he couldn't put off work for much longer. But there was no way he'd be able to slave away at the forge without knowing for sure if the one thing he'd missed the most was still out of reach. Focusing, he felt Bahamut's impatience keenly. It had been far too long.

As the winged creature appeared amidst fog and thunder, its leathery wings spanning wide, Seifer grinned broadly. The large maroon beast looked just as impressive as he remembered. He'd never seen any other Guardian Force that inspired as much respect. Watching it beat its wings, feeling the shifts in the air, he didn't want the moment to end. If only they were out in the open and surrounded by prey.

Witnessing the summon from the sidelines, Squall tried not to be swayed by Shiva's incessant appeals. Seifer's success was promising, the man completely riveted by the powerful GF as it hovered in the air with powerful strokes of its wings. Squall thought with some relief that the compatibility between the two seemed untarnished by the years spent cut off from each other.

There was something majestic about the creature that commanded awe, and even Seifer's usual cockiness was toned down to a more contained demeanor—anything less than total domination and focus was foolish when in command of a beast like Bahamut.

It was with regret that Squall watched the GF bow its head to Seifer as the man raised his hand to discharge the winged creature. Bahamut beat against the air with its powerful wings, as if to rise through the ceiling, disintegrating into gusts of wind that whipped at Squall's clothes and hair.

Seifer's elation was contagious as the man turned to face him with a beaming smile. "Your turn."

Always having been weak to Seifer's challenges, Squall nodded against his better judgment and stepped into the center. To see his ice goddess in the flesh, not just a specter in his mind, would be a sorely needed relief.

/_Be good_,/ he warned the playful GF, needing her to compensate for any disorientation he might experience. Drawing her through the junction, he pushed her out into the world. Pain bloomed in his head immediately, but he ignored it and snapped open his eyes to study the large crystal he'd conjured.

Shiva's elegant shape stirred inside, cracking the ice until it gave away in a burst of icy shards. Stepping out from the debris, the ice goddess locked eyes with him and sent him a testing smile.

/_I'm fine. Are you?_/

Her nod was slow and graceful, her slanted eyes crinkling as her smile broadened. She inclined her head in question, eager to play.

/_Next time_,/ he promised, sharing the sharpening pain with her. /_Need to keep it brief_./

Giving another nod in understanding, she walked towards him with beguiling grace, her mere presence an old source of reassurance and comfort. The cold that pierced deeper with each of her approaching steps was pleasantly numbing, his breath frosting in the air by the time she stood before him.

Lifting her arm to place a gentle hand against his cheek, she chased away some of his headache with her chilling touch.

/_Thanks._/

He could feel his relief mirrored in the connection they shared. As long as they could still be like this, rooted side by side in the real world, they'd be fine. Next time they'd have more time. When the ice goddess lowered her arm, Squall unraveled the summon and watched as she burst into thousands of icy flecks scattering in the air.

Having followed the interaction from the sidelines, Seifer raised an eyebrow. "She always flirt like that?"

Not even finding it endearing when Squall frowned in what looked like confusion, Seifer couldn't just forget the sway to Shiva's hips or the coy smile she'd sent the man as she had sauntered over to him. No wonder the rumors about her and Squall had started.

When the brunet still didn't reply, his eyes glazed over in their usual fashion when Squall was focused inwards—_on his GF_—Seifer shook his head. "Don't tell me you didn't catch that."

Squall's frown grew as he refocused his gaze on Seifer. He didn't understand what kind of joke the man was playing, Shiva's growing hilarity suggesting it was indeed a joke. Uninvited flirtation had never been one of his problems, least of all from Shiva.

"Do you _ever_ catch it?" Seifer asked, a suspicion starting to form.

"She wasn't flirting," Squall said tersely, feeling ridiculous having to deny it.

"Just answer the question. Do you ever notice it? People flirting with you," Seifer repeated as he walked closer, keeping his budding amusement to himself.

"They don't."

Smiling lopsidedly, Seifer stopped right in front of the brunet. "So...it never occurred to you that I was flirting with you when I asked for a striptease? … Or when I joked about the fun only starting _after_ the uniform comes off?"

Uncertain whether Seifer was trying to flirt, tease or get under his skin just to prove he could, Squall had to consciously keep himself from flinching back from the blond's proximity.

"Stop."

"Stop what, Squall?" Seifer asked, feigning ignorance.

"Being an ass," Squall bit out, glaring at the blond as he inwardly tried to diffuse the part of him that was actually responding to the man.

Seifer leaned in closer, while eyeing Squall up lewdly. "You should try it sometime."

Stepping away from the blond, Squall was done with playing games he didn't understand. "Save your flirting for someone who cares."

"Ouch, Princess," Seifer said, holding a hand over his heart, his smile not faltering. "Now if you don't mind, I think I'll try and mend my broken heart with a bit of physical labor." He nodded towards the courtyard. "You coming?"

Brow twitching at the blond's fickle mood, Squall let out a sigh. He should've gotten used to Seifer toying with him a long time ago, but the man kept catching him off guard. "You need help?" he asked, certain he lacked the necessary skills for any kind of smith work.

"No," Seifer said, shaking his head. "Just thought you might want to check out the place and see a great weapon smith in action," he added with a wink. "Arc's collection of blades is quite the sight too. Some real oddities in there."

"Your boss won't mind?" Squall asked, following the blond out of the hangar.

Seifer shrugged as he crossed the courtyard. "He'll be fine." Arc hadn't cared either way when Seifer had shown Calder around a while back, after the man had kept insisting. Most likely Arc had been too absorbed in his work, and probably would be now too.

The hinges creaked when he pushed open the backdoor to the kitchen, the layer of dust on the floor billowing up into the air with each of his footsteps. He'd never seen Arc clean the damned place and Hyne forbid he'd take on the task himself. Throwing his coat onto the table, he rubbed the stubble on his cheek. If Squall had formed an opinion of the place yet, it didn't show, the man's expression carefully neutral as always.

Walking across the kitchen, he held open the door that led to the workshop. As he waited for the brunet to pass through, he had to curb the urge to smack the man's ass—there were too many lethal weapons within hand's reach.

"Finally decided to turn up?" Arc demanded as Seifer entered the workshop. The old man was standing by the forge, already covered in smudges of soot.

"Hey, no complaining. I stayed up until three last night to finish the dagger," Seifer said, waving off the man.

"After you didn't come in to work all day," Arc muttered under his breath, resuming work on the katar in front of him.

Certain that would be the extent of their interaction, Seifer raised an eyebrow when Arc looked Squall's way.

"Who's this?"

Seifer walked further into the room. "A friend. I'm going to show him the ropes."

The unhurried study of the brunet that followed wasn't entirely reassuring, but then Arc let out a "hmph" and dismissed any further conversation by moving the katar to the anvil.

Seifer shrugged at Squall's quizzical expression. Hell if he knew what was going on in Arc's head—the old smith hadn't shown the slightest bit of interest in Calder.

"This is mine," Seifer said as he gestured at the more messy part of the long counter that lined the entire wall. The wooden surface was covered in random drawings of weapons and old stains, coffee being the worst culprit. The wall behind it was littered with pictures and drawings of gunblades, notes on materials, and welding techniques for different parts. The design for his next blade was among his scribbles. To an outsider it probably looked like a madman's lair.

He reached for the blade lying next to his work area. "One of Arc's latest," he said, handing it over to Squall.

Letting his eyes run along the sharp edge of the exquisite blade, Squall could tell the quality of the forging by the many layers of folded metal that gave the weapon its razor sharp edge. It was an older, elegant design with a classic revolving chamber, the balance perfect when he poised the edge of the hilt on a few fingers.

"I forged the blade."

Glancing up at the blond's statement, Squall raised an eyebrow and turned the blade over in search of Seifer's mark. Each weapon smith wielded their own, and he'd been too distracted by Hyperion to have looked for Seifer's sigil on the other gunblades displayed at the SCTA. When he spotted the familiar but unexpected mark etched into the metal, he looked over at the graying man by the anvil.

"Balios?" he asked, unable to reconcile the humble shop with the mark of the world-renowned smith.

Seifer sent Squall a big smirk. "The one and only," he bragged, nodding at the smith's mark. "He likes to take credit." He spoke the words loud enough for the smith to overhear, but didn't get any reaction.

Impressed, Squall ran his finger over the stylized mark of a falcon with spread wings. Perhaps it was no great wonder to find the famous yet enigmatic smith in a place like this. His work had been published in a multitude of Weapon's Monthly magazines, but there had never been any personal info aside from a phone number and the smith's surname—all no doubt measures intended to filter away curious window shoppers, or broke cadets like he had been at the time.

Sympathetic towards the smith's need for privacy, Squall handed the blade back to Seifer. "What's your mark?" he asked, certain the blond had picked one out already, even if Arc didn't allow him to use it yet.

Seifer pulled up his shirt sleeve enough for Squall to see his tattoo.

Squall let out an amused huff. Seifer's habits when it came to weapons was about the only predictable side to the man, his gunblades named after gods and marked by cross swords. Letting his gaze wander around the cluttered workspace—the controlled chaos very similar to the blond's apartment—Squall was quietly impressed with the sheer amount of weapon parts, sketches, blueprints and tools. He'd seen similar sights in the workshops of FH engineers.

Fingering an oil stain much like the one on Seifer's coffee table, Squall interrupted his study of the blond's workspace when his gaze was caught by sketches of a familiar blade. "Did you make her?" he asked, recognizing Seifer's scrawl on the meticulous drawings.

Following Squall's gaze to sketches of Kronos, Seifer nodded. "Just finished her a couple of months ago."

The blade Squall remembered from their spar had been first-rate—nothing he would've expected from an apprentice who claimed to still have a few years of tutelage to go. But then again, Seifer never did things by halves. As he studied Kronos' different incarnations on paper, he wondered how the same person could have such unsightly handwriting yet produce these kinds of drawings.

"Come on, I'll show you the rest of this place," Seifer said and pushed away from the worktop. "We do our main work in here," he said as he walked past the anvils and furnace.

"This is where we leave the weapons that are ready to be picked up," he said, gesturing at a random selection of weapons laid off to the side. "That's the dagger I worked on last night."

Leaning in over the table, he lifted up a piece of paper tacked onto the pinboard. "This is our list of commissions. Here's the katar Arc is working on," he said, running his finger along a line of text. "We're behind on these ones—some shuriken and a katana." He rifled through a pile of papers on the desk to get to the technical drawings. "I'm on the shuriken for now," he said, handing the drawing to Squall. "I already did the preliminary work, just have to take them to the anvil for the finish."

Not waiting for the brunet to rifle through the drawings, he opened a door into another room. "This is where we do most of the casting. It's also where we keep most of our tools and materials." He walked over to a cabinet and picked up some tools before returning. "In there is the actual shop," he said with a nod at the door at the other end of the room. "If you can even call it that. Most of the weapons in there aren't even for sale… Arc's a hoarder," he added as they walked past the old man.

Following Seifer back to his workspace, Squall felt the older smith's hawk-eyed gaze on his back and wondered if his presence there was not as tolerated after all. Deciding it was the blond's problem, he perched himself on the corner of the large worktable to watch as Seifer laid out his work tools and pinned the necessary technical drawings on the board in front of him. The throwing stars themselves were procured from a shelf and placed in front of the blond.

"I can't remember how many of these I've made before Arc let me in on the bigger stuff," the man said with a huff, starting to make some measurements on the first of the batch and making notes. "Still a bitch to get right, though. See here? The angles and distances need to be just right, or else they won't cut through shit. These will manage skin or leather fine, but nothing sturdier."

Happy enough to let Seifer talk him through the different processes required, Squall paid attention to the man's contagious enthusiasm just as much as to his words. He'd never seen the brute man do such delicate work before, and with such patience. A tiny difference in measurement meant the difference between good and bad aerodynamics, and so the blond cut no corners as he checked each throwing star for balance and symmetry.

Squall had known that handmade weapons required both force and delicacy, yet he was still surprised to see Seifer turn each item over in his hands with care, making swift and minute marks wherever some of the shurikens needed more work. The man's simple, to-the-point explanations further reminded him of why Seifer also made a great teacher.

"When I'm done with this, I'll need to touch them up at the anvil," the blond continued to explain, picking up the next shuriken. "After that I'll be etching on a simple pattern. It's pretty straightforward—put on a layer of wax, scratch in the design and coat it with acid. Got plenty of nasty burns from—"

Falling quiet when he felt Arc's eyes on them, Seifer straightened his back. Usually nothing drew the man's attention away from his work. He frowned when Arc walked over to the wooden cupboard holding the man's booze and got out three shot glasses.

"Here," Arc said as he handed each of them a glass. Taking the bottle of well-aged spiced rum from underneath his arm, he filled each glass to the brim and clinked his glass against Seifer's, waiting for the blond to down his drink. "Now shut up."

Seifer knocked back the alcohol in his glass and chuckled. So that was what had been bugging the old coot. Having said his piece, Arc turned his back to them, about to return to work.

"The blue blade. This is the guy."

Turning back around to eye Squall carefully, Arc didn't immediately comment. "Who made it?" he asked after a pregnant pause.

Meeting the man's gaze, Squall knew the smith must already have a few guesses lined up. Only a few places made weapons that were imbued with magic properties. "A smith from the Shumi tribe."

"...And you are?"

"A SeeD," Seifer quickly answered on Squall's behalf.

After another moment of studying the brunet, Arc let out another "hmph." Filling up Squall's shot glass and his own once more, he held up his glass in an invitation to drink together.

Appreciating the smith's no-nonsense approach, Squall tapped his own glass against Arc's. Somehow it felt like an initiation rite, and he could imagine the older man having put Seifer through the same assessing scrutiny in the past. Though probably unwise considering the amount of meds he was on, he downed the second shot glass of burning liquid.

Turning to fill up Seifer's glass, Arc nodded at the blond. "Maybe we should add Trabia to your next trip out," the smith said as he walked past Seifer with a pat to his shoulder.

Emptying his shot glass once again, Seifer watched as Arc returned to his work. He couldn't remember the man ever getting out alcohol for outsiders, not even clients. Baffled by Arc's antics, certain he'd gotten used to them all by now, he considered the man's suggestion instead. It would be amazing to learn how to forge something like Squall's new blade.

Realizing he'd better get going at the forge, he grabbed one of the shurikens. "You wanna stay for lunch?" he asked, looking at Squall. "I better focus until then, but you can see how it's done—feel free to roam around as well."

"Sure," Squall replied. His plans for the day were rather meager whenever Seifer wasn't available. He wasn't any good at keeping himself occupied, never having had as much free time as he did now.

When the blond nodded and walked towards the furnace and anvil, Squall decided on one of the few surfaces near the wall that wasn't completely covered in tools and weapon parts. Lifting himself onto the oak trestle table, he watched as Seifer started to put on several items of protective gear. The leather apron and gloves were well-worn and blackened with soot, the blond's safety glasses and sound deadening headset ruling out any chance of conversation.

Settling in for the "force" part of forging weapons, Squall tried to shake the oddness of sitting idly by while others did all the work—not that he'd be able to do anything useful. Seifer was already fanning the flames of the furnace with a set of large bellows, the glow of red hot coals spilling out into the workshop and casting the blond's face in fiery hues. As the man worked up the heat in the furnace, Squall could feel the hot air all the way to where he was sitting. He smiled when Shiva interrupted his thoughts with a crystalline huff, the ice goddess retreating further into his mind.

The air became dense with heat, the scent of burning coal, soot and metal quickly filling the room. The old chimney didn't manage to draw away all of the smoke, but Squall didn't mind the smell. It was a heavy scent that had always reminded him of the excitement of saving up for Revolver; of the many walks by the smith shop where the gunblade had been on display. In recent days, he'd started to associate the scent with Seifer.

Watching as Seifer pulled the first heated shuriken out of the furnace with a set of tongs and brought down the hammer with a carefully placed swing, Squall remembered why the man had always been so easy to admire. Seifer was still every bit as ambitious and talented, never one for defeatist attitudes.

As the blond started into a regular rhythm of beats, Squall soon found himself captivated by the display of brute strength and the sheen of sweat that started to form on the man's bared arms. With most of the blond obscured from view by either the anvil or protective gear, Squall's eyes strayed to the sight of bunching muscles that rolled beneath tanned skin with every strike of the blond's hammer. He'd never seen Seifer use his strength in such a controlled, focused manner. Even through the safety glasses, he could see the look of intense concentration in the man's eyes.

Usually Seifer would already have felt his gaze and have looked his way with a cocky remark. The only other time he'd been allowed such an uninterrupted study had been during their night of Avalanche, seated on Seifer's windowsill. The intimacy of the moment felt the same—to be shown a previously unknown side to the man.

Remembering the sight of the prone man tugging at his shirt's collar and baring his chest, Squall let his gaze drop to Seifer's collar bone. The small dip below his Adam's apple glistened with sweat, just above the man's shirt. It clung tightly to his chest, outlining his broad shoulders perfectly each time the man turned to pump the bellows.

The furnace had been brought to a full roar now. One after the other red-hot shuriken was thrown into the dousing tub, releasing a hissing cloud of steam and adding moisture to the heat in the air. The blond worked fast. Inhaling the thick air deeply, Squall leaned back against the wall. He wanted to break Seifer's concentration, to break the tension in himself. He needed to _move_ and spar with the blond—to draw all of that focus to himself.

He imagined picking a fight right then and there—Seifer had never looked more strong and masculine than in that moment. Would he be ordered out of the workshop, or would he be indulged? His pulse quickened when he imagined the blond setting down the hammer and stalking over to him with a predatory gleam to those green eyes. As his gaze dropped to Seifer's lips, he imagined them curling up into a smirk. He was starting to forget how they had tasted—

The sudden sound of his phone's ringtone brought back reality, tearing his attention away from the enticing view and his wildly inappropriate thoughts. Swallowing thickly, he willed his excitement away and fumbled for his phone. Flicking it open, he frowned at the "private number" notice on the display.

"Who is this?" he asked tersely, resentful to whoever had caught him in the act. A soft chuckle sounded from the other side, immediately causing his guard to go up. Quistis rarely called just to catch up.

"It's reassuring to hear you're well enough to still intimidate your callers."

"No caller ID," Squall replied, glancing over to the anvil. Seifer was too engrossed in his work to have noticed his indecent gaze. "Why the secure line?" Looking around the workshop, he was glad to see that Arc had left some time during his... study of the blond. To think the old man's presence hadn't deterred his libido in the slightest...

"I'm at your office right now. It's been my home away from homelately," she replied, laying on the sarcasm.

He cringed inwardly, well aware that part of his workload would have fallen to Quistis in his absence. "I've been getting through my mail. The schedule updates—"

"I was joking!" she cut in quickly. "You know I'm just as bad a workaholic as you. Leave the schedule updates to me."

"I did them last night."

"Squall! Don't you know the meaning of sick leave?" Quistis chided. "You can trust me at the ship's helm. Just focus on getting better."

He sighed and leaned back. "I trust you—"

"_Good_."

"—but it's paperwork. I can do that much."

"I'll remember you said that when next year's budget meeting comes along," she said, pausing before her voice took on a more serious tone. "But that isn't why I called."

"You got Odine's report."

"I did and it's worrisome, Squall," the woman replied. "Did you start his suggested treatment yet?"

He didn't answer right away, careful not to betray anything that might point to Seifer's involvement. "This morning."

"_And?_"

"The pills seem to work, but I'm far from my peak. Time will tell."

"_You_ tell me," Quistis implored. "Next time we talk on the phone, it better be _you_ calling _me_. Rinoa and Laguna haven't been very forthcoming, and I know it's your doing."

"... I'll call if anything changes," Squall replied noncommittally. The woman was far too astute and would pick apart any other reply.

"You do that," she said with a sigh. "I can't say I'm very happy with any of this. I had to hear from Rinoa that you broke up months ago and severed the bond, and the first real information on your medical status came in a mail from _Odine_."

Squall had no excuses other than confessing to having avoided the woman on purpose, so he kept his mouth shut.

"Great, back to silence then," Quistis huffed. "We could've helped, Squall. You could've come back to Balamb. The two of you going off to Esthar... I never liked it one bit."

"I told you so," he replied, hoping to diffuse her mood in another way.

"What?"

"I know you want to say it, so get it out of your system."

A stunned silence was followed with a breathy laugh. "Alright then_. I told you so_."

"Better?"

She laughed again. "_Much_. But don't think you're out of the woods yet, Commander. I _did_ warn you... I just wish I could do more than just cover your paperwork and meetings."

"You could send me a change of clothes," he offered half in jest, remembering the scant few items he'd taken from the old penthouse.

"...You'll be the death of me," she said in mock exasperation. "_Alright_. Your clothes. Anything else?"

"No."

She chuckled. "I'm sure Laguna's already got all the rest covered. Does he have that cook on stand-by all day again? That poor overworked bastard."

"The food's fine," he replied, treading carefully. Seifer _had_ cooked surprisingly good food so far. When no immediate reply came to his comment, Squall was momentarily afraid she'd somehow picked up on the dishonesty in his voice.

"All joking aside," Quistis finally said. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Thanks, but not good enough. I'll have the truth please."

Squall sighed, well aware he could no longer callously dismiss her as he would have in the past. "... I'll be fine," he amended.

"Oh Squall," she said softly. "You _will_ be. Anything you need, you call me, okay? Whether it's someone to listen, clothes, or more paperwork, I'll do it."

"...Thanks." Shooting down her offer would only get him into more trouble.

"Come back to Balamb soon, you hear? I'll have a mission ready for you."

"You know me well," he said, his lips quirking at the corners. Quistis always liked to think she did, and in comparison to most, it was the truth.

She chuckled, but paused then. "...What is that sound I've been hearing in the background? Where are you?"

Amusement grinding to a halt, Squall cringed inwardly. Better to keep the lie as close to the truth as possible. "A weapon shop. You're hearing the smith at the anvil."

"Don't tell me you're commissioning another weapon!"

"No, just looking," he reassured, hating how his guilty gaze flitted back to Seifer's sweating form.

"That bored, huh?" Quistis said. "You should ask Kiros for a spar. He's guard captain; he should still have enough game to challenge you."

"I'll think about it."

"_Do it_," she chided. "The day my Commander goes window-shopping is the day I throw in the towel!" She sighed, the sound of rustling paper traveling over the connection. "I have to go now. The explosives department demanded a meeting, and it's starting in five."

"Selphie?"

"_Don't ask_," Quistis said with another suffering sigh. "And don't worry! I'll make sure Balamb Garden is still standing when you return."

"Good luck."

"Appreciate it," the woman replied with a huff. "Talk to you soon, Squall. I'm holding you to that call."

When the line went dead, Squall pocketed his phone and looked back to the blond. The call had gone reasonably well, and Quistis hadn't seemed suspicious. He'd be safe for another few days, but he knew she'd figure out the truth before long.

Deciding a delay of execution was better than nothing, he began to lean back against the wall, but when his gaze was immediately pulled back to Seifer before he could make a conscious decision not to, he quickly hopped off the table.

This was insane—he couldn't even trust himself around the blond anymore when the man was simply doing his job. That morning, Seifer's far too close proximity and morning-wood had hardly been Squall's fault, but this particular lapse into the gutter he couldn't blame on anyone other than himself. Huffing, he walked over to a set of display cases and kept his gaze strictly on the antique pieces the cabinets held.

Figuring Seifer still had a while to go, he wandered towards the area the blond had indicated as the "shop that wasn't an actual shop." The door stood ajar, no noises sounding from within. Wherever Arc had gone, he probably wouldn't mind him perusing the one area of the property that was actually intended for customers.

When solid walls finally separated him from Seifer, Squall released a deep breath and let go of the tight rein he'd held on his wandering gaze. Looking around, he decided that Seifer had been right in his assessment. The shop seemed like it was designed to keep customers at bay rather than invite them in. Having met the enigmatic Balios, he was probably right in that guess. When it came to attracting seasoned fighters, hearsay and recommendations mattered far more than a flashy display.

Running a finger through a thick layer of dust along one of the glass counters, he stirred up even more dust with his every step into the shop. The light that shone through the dirty windows was opaque and yellow, and most of the weapons were old and rusted, creating an almost otherworldly atmosphere. Most items weren't even displayed properly—they were either thrown haphazardly into large crates and boxes or weighed down aged shelves beyond their limit.

It almost felt like one of the make-belief games Seifer used to rope him into back at the orphanage. The neglected shop would've fit one of their favored scenarios perfectly: the discovery of a treasure trove, easily changing from a pirate's lair to a dragon's nest, depending on the blond youth's whims. There had always been treasure to gather and weapons to seize, usually after the defeat of an unfortunate foe.

Flicking on a light, he broke the illusion and wandered from one odd item to the next. Arc had managed to put together a curious collection of both junk and diamonds in the rough. Most familiar with swords and gunblades, Squall bypassed the knock-off, mass-produced blades and singled out the true antiques. Testing their balance and weight, he quickly grew fond of a simple, two-handed broadsword. A hum of fading magic still infused the aged metal, and though the buff charms were nearly gone, the blade's double edge was still razor sharp.

"Good choice."

Turning to where Seifer stood leaning against the doorway, Squall aborted his stance and lowered the blade. When his gaze was drawn to the small streak of soot along the blond's neck, he quickly stopped his gaze from lingering.

Running a hand through his hair, Seifer nodded towards the kitchen. "Ready for lunch?"

When the brunet let out an agreeing hum and carefully set down the blade onto one of the firmer looking, less cluttered shelves, he suppressed a smile. Reverence like that meant love at first sight. He wasn't surprised to have found Squall in the shop, testing a blade he would've known to pick out for the man himself.

Drying off his soot covered fingers, he waved Squall over and led them back to the kitchen. Getting out some bread and spreads, he set about making his sandwich, letting the brunet make his own food. They didn't say anything as they prepared lunch side by side. Plate in hand, he walked outside and sat down on the edge of the old concrete well with a contented sigh.

Digging into his sandwich, he looked up as Squall approached. Back at Garden he would never have imagined them able to keep the peace long enough to have lunch together, let alone share a quiet moment like this. It even seemed like Squall had enjoyed himself so far. He hadn't seemed impatient or curt like usual. Seifer smiled. Despite the rundown buildings and far from pristine interior, it was the closest thing to a home he knew. "I love it here."

Squall looked up from his food at the contemplative tone, and let out an acknowledging hum. "Now I know where you picked up your taste for hard liquor."

Seifer chuckled. "Arc's a good man, his liquor even better," he confessed, having taken a fair share in emptying many of the man's bottles. He took another bite out of his sandwich. "You know... I used to live here. For about a year after the war," he said, wondering what state his old room was in. It had been cluttered as hell back when he'd lived there. "In a crappy little room in there," he added, inclining his head in the direction of the kitchen.

Following the blond's gaze, Squall realized what Seifer was saying. "He took you in."

"Not at first," Seifer said with a shrug. "I came looking for a job—_any_ job. Arc turned me down flat." He'd visited every single weapon shop in the city in the hope of earning some Gil as a helper—he hadn't even considered the option of becoming an apprentice back then. Any menial job would have sufficed, and weapons were the only thing he understood aside from fighting. As he recalled the weeks that followed, his expression hardened. No one wanted to hire a foreigner without permanent residency. He'd had no Gil to spare, not even enough for a room in the slums—just enough to keep starvation at bay.

After over a month of living on the road without having washed, without a bed to sleep in, he'd smelled like a dead Funguar and had looked even worse. Any hope of a job had vanished. When he hadn't eaten in several days, he'd ended up on the roof of a skyscraper for an entire day, Hyperion in his lap.

"When I came back and tried to sell him Hyperion, he just stared at me like I'd lost my mind and didn't say anything for ages. Kind of like how he stared you down earlier. Just when I was about to leave, he told me to get cleaned up and gave me a key to a room in the back." He chuckled lowly. "Who would've thought the renowned Arc Balios is nothing but a great big softie."

In spite of Seifer making light of the story, Squall looked at the blond with mixed feelings. Things had to have been bad for the man to try and sell off Hyperion. At least he seemed to have bounced back from whatever problems he'd had at first. Squall couldn't imagine pulling the same feat. He'd never really had any money to speak of until he was promoted to the rank of commander, but he'd also never lacked for anything. Ousted from the Garden system however, he realized he'd be in trouble. Apart from fighting, he had no skills. Seifer had made it out here however, had adapted; something he wasn't sure he'd be able to do himself.

"...It's a good place," he acknowledged. "The work suits you."

"It's not bad as far as civilian jobs go," Seifer nodded, having made peace with his place in life. Even if their training that morning had shown other avenues were still open to him, he wouldn't want to stop his path to becoming a weapon smith. There was something satisfying about creating exquisite weapons—to help a fighter gain the extra edge that could mean the difference between life or death. "Doesn't hurt that I'm a natural," he added with a smirk. "Did you check out the upgrade yet?"

"This morning," Squall said with a nod. "Looks good. I'll have to test it in the field."

At the mention of actual fights, Seifer glanced in the direction of the southern city border. The Esthar Wall was all that stood between them and one of the world's richest hunting grounds. "We could head out tomorrow—spend a day killing monsters on the plains."

Squall met the blond's gaze with an agreeing hum. If they went into the wild, away from prying eyes, he could finally get Lionheart out. "North?" he asked, aware from reports that those desert plains still held stray packs of Lunar Cry monsters.

"Sure," Seifer said, eager at the prospect. He hadn't been out that way in a while, too many of the monsters charged with potent magic. It would be the perfect place to train their magic and fill up their stores at the same time.

As they ate in companionable silence, a question from the night he'd brought Squall home from the club resurfaced in his mind. "You know, I always had you pegged as someone who loved the small village life—definitely not the big city." It still confused him. For someone who loved to be on his own, Esthar seemed like an absurd place to move to.

Squall let out a soft huff, reminded of Winhill's small-town mentality and love of gossip. "Don't care for either," he said evenly. "It's better not to get attached to any one place." Annoyed as Rinoa had been with him constantly being on the move, he'd needed the escape. Esthar made him feel like he'd drown in all the people.

"How come you moved here then?"

Frowning, Squall didn't immediately look up from his sandwich. If it hadn't been for the past few days and Seifer's own candid words, he would've cut off the conversation right there, but it was far too late to turn the man away anymore.

"... Rinoa... She was having trouble keeping in control. Odine could help, so we moved here."

Seifer didn't like Squall's reluctant tone of voice or the man's averted gaze. "What happened?"

"Her powers—they became too much."

Seifer turned to stare at the gravel beneath his feet. The thought of a Sorceress gone rogue, enough so for Squall to seek Odine's aid, was enough to leave him tense. "In what way?"

"... Just mood shifts at first," Squall replied slowly, disinclined to lie when Seifer had shared in the consequences of his failed bond. "Later she was angry all the time. She started to have blackouts... had trouble reining in her powers."

"How is she now?"

"Better... She wears magic wards most of the time." Setting aside his food, appetite gone, Squall still couldn't shake the bitterness of his failure as her knight. "It's better than the meds Odine had her on at first."

Glancing at Squall's half eaten sandwich, Seifer sighed softly. Taking another bite of his own sandwich, he let silence fall between them. He hadn't expected people from his past to become a part of his life again. He hadn't really missed Rinoa, but part of him cared for her all the same. There was even a part of him that missed the place he'd once called home.

"How are things back at B-Garden?"

Looking up at the change of topic, Squall gave a slight shrug. "Getting rid of the Garden Faculty has been the only good change," he replied. "There's more media exposure, more applicants... It was easier when nobody cared about us."

Seifer couldn't suppress the slight quirk to his lips. Most other people at Garden would view that as a positive. "And Cid? How's he?"

"He's preparing Quistis to take over when he retires."

At the thought of his old, prissy instructor making it as far as headmaster, Seifer snorted. "I bet she's loving that."

"She'll make a good Headmistress. She's got the backbone Cid lacks."

"Big words…" Seifer said, quirking an eyebrow. Squall didn't do flattery, so Quistis must have stepped up and proven more capable and professional than she'd ever been when mooning over a student. "She still crushing on you?" he said and grinned at the unimpressed glade he received in return. "Or did you not notice?" The scowl that followed was priceless.

How anyone had managed to gain the interest of the most introverted guy on the planet was beyond him. "Rinoa must've pulled quite a trick on you," he said with a slight shake of his head, before wiping his hands on his trousers. He took a deep breath of fresh air as his eyes scanned the courtyard.

"I'd better get back to work," he said as he stood up. "We still on for sparring tonight?"

Getting up as well, Squall nodded. "What time?"

"I should be done around seven. I'll give you a call when I leave," Seifer said, grabbing their plates. "Meet you there?"

"Sure."

Seifer nodded and started towards the back entrance. "See you later, Princess."

Scowling at Seifer's parting shot, Squall spared the man's retreating back one last look, before he turned around and left the courtyard with Revolver's case in hand.

Letting out a sigh, he didn't look forward to his afternoon. He'd managed all the administrative work that could be done remotely the night earlier, so until the agreed on spar, all that lay before him was boredom. He might as well start training at the SCTA early. He might risk tiring himself out before Seifer got there, but lingering around the blond's apartment all day would be equally detrimental.

Turning left when he came to the abandoned street, he started the long trek back to the apartment. The sun was out and temperatures were mild for the time of year, so he'd purposefully chosen to walk over taking a second car to Seifer's work. At least he'd kill some time like that, and there was something calming about long walks. Whenever life forced him to a standstill, through injury or stress or _people_, he liked to just go wherever his feet took him. It was a habit born from his orphanage days.

Taking in all the rundown warehouses and factories, he maintained a leisurely pace. The cityscape was a far cry from any beach, but it facilitated quiet thought just as well. Or at least it had in the past. It was as if spending the past few days with Seifer had rendered him incapable of being alone. Before his stay with the blond, he'd been perfectly fine spending entire days alone or longer—in the field, on a stakeout, in nature… Perhaps only Seifer's demanding nature was enough to distract him from all the dark or inappropriate thoughts running through his head. Or perhaps he just really needed a mission.

Huffing at himself, he knew there was more to it than that. Even self-denial had its limits. Something had changed; not only in the way he regarded Seifer, but in the way they acted around each other as well. The change went beyond the attraction he felt. With every passing day, their interactions extended further and further beyond the original boundaries of their rivalry.

Even if their conversation was strained and often brief, it was more than they had ever managed in the past. His father, his failure as a knight, the blond's past and new life—they'd touched on it all. His concern for Seifer's well-being seemed to be returned as well, even if neither of them could admit it out loud. It was discomfiting to talk honestly about things that mattered, to show parts of himself he'd rather keep hidden, but Seifer hadn't given him a choice.

Seifer seemed to have less trouble being true to his cocky self, unapologetic as always, but it did little to simplify things between them. Even if the blond was teasing when saying he'd been flirting with Squall, he'd been serious when accidentally blurting out the truth in the SCTA showers.

Frowning as he crossed a walkway into a busier district, Squall didn't know what to make of it all. He couldn't tell anymore if Seifer was truly hinting at something, or if he was just projecting his own involuntary attraction onto everything the man did and said, misinterpreting behavior that was only meant to provoke.

Regardless of whether Seifer's regard for him was platonic or not, there was no question they'd outgrown the limited label of "rivals." After a nightmare he'd found comfort in Seifer's presence, something he still found bizarre and embarrassing to think back on. He wasn't sure what was odder—him having allowed it or Seifer having offered it.

If anything, it reminded Squall more of when they'd been kids, _before_ the rivalry. At the orphanage, Seifer had had a strange way of being involved, managing to insult and pester him while at the same time coming up with some plausible excuse to stay indoors with him whenever Squall had been sick. Disguised kindness like that was the reason he had put up with the bully, and he supposed it was why he was staying now as well.

Startling from his musings when someone jostled his shoulder in passing, Squall snorted at himself. Luckily his sense of orientation was good, his feet remembering the way even when he was lost to thought. He'd always been good at running on autopilot, allowing his mind free rein.

This time, however, his train of thought was an exercise in futility. It was impossible to define his relationship with Seifer. They had grown up together, but Squall wouldn't call Seifer his brother the way he used to consider Ellone his sister. They'd once admitted to being rivals only, but the label had never fit, unable to capture the passion they invested in every single spar. Even having been enemies, Squall had come out of that war realizing he cared for the man.

Would they become friends now? Squall frowned at the word, uncertain whether they'd be able to mold their troubled relationship into something like that. They had already been treading into murky territory ever since he'd landed in Seifer's bed. On the other hand, Irvine loved to wax poetic on the merits of friends with benefits...

Squall's scowl grew at the unbidden thought. The plan was to keep things as uncomplicated as possible. He'd just have to deal with the lack of a proper label for them and keep focused on what really mattered—reestablishing some kind of balance after everything they'd been through. A fleeting attraction didn't fit into that picture.

Readjusting his hold on Revolver's case, he wound his way through the idling crowd to reach the Fulcura Street access point. As he got onto the passenger lift, he sent Seifer a silent curse, childishly blaming the man for suddenly having sprouted a sense of work ethic. They could've been sparring already, but instead he would be counting the hours.

Settling in for the fifteen minutes long ride, he directed his gaze outside the shimmering force field as the city whizzed by, already looking forward to the coming evening. Tonight's spar couldn't come soon enough.

* * *

**[Arc Balios' Weapon Shop, Tiamat District, Friday, 24th of October, 6:42 pm]**

Swiping the sweat from his brow, Seifer set down the katana he'd been working on. He wasn't anywhere close to done, and for the last hour, he'd been more focused on checking the time than on the job at hand.

Dropping his work gloves on the wooden counter, he ticked off the shuriken he'd finished earlier on the list of jobs. Arc had disappeared a few hours back without any warning—a usual occurrence. Gathering his things, he walked through the kitchen and down the hall leading to the residential part of the building.

With a knock on the living room door, he opened it and nodded at where Arc was sitting. The man was in his usual spot, only briefly looking up from the technical drawings that covered the worn table in front of him. Despite it still being light out, the room was dark save for a desk lamp aimed at the documents.

"I'm off," Seifer said, unsurprised at the curt hum in reply. When he'd lived there, days could go by without them exchanging more than a handful of sentences.

About to turn around, he was instead pinned into place by Arc's gaze. "Translucent and luminous," the man said slowly—knowingly. "Azure."

Seifer didn't doubt what the old man was implying for even a second. Everyone had heard tales of the SeeD commander's weapon. "And?"

Arc let silence hang between them as he rolled his pen between his fingers and mulled over his words. "Keep your focus," he said, moving a finger to tap against the schematics on the table. "You have a gift, son. Don't waste it."

"I'm not," Seifer said with a shrug, not moving from his position in the doorway. A few days of missed work didn't warrant Arc's concern. "He needed help."

"Unlikely," the old man said with a huff, returning his attention to the papers in front of him. He jotted down a correction before swapping the drawing for another one, his eyes skimming the calculations next to the blueprint.

"Don't worry, old man," Seifer said, straightening his pose. "You're stuck with me." At Arc's nod, he turned and left.

Things had been this way from the start. If anything other than blacksmithing caught Seifer's attention, Arc would always point it out. This time was no different, even if it was the SeeD commander causing the commotion. He trusted Arc completely. Nothing changed with Arc knowing who Squall was. It was one of the things he liked about the old coot—nothing could ruffle the man.

Stepping out into the courtyard, he breathed in the fresh air as he got out his cell to check the time. Ten to seven. Just enough time to get to the SCTA in time for his spar with Squall. He frowned at the missed call he'd received from Rinoa two hours ago. Pressing the call button, he walked over to lean against his pick up.

"Hello? Seifer?" the girl asked as she picked up the phone.

"You called," he replied tersely.

Rinoa let out a huff. "I'm calling about Squall. He won't say how he's doing. He just tells me he's fine, to brush me off…" She paused, her voice easing up. "How is he?"

Seifer opened the door to his pickup and got into the driver's seat. "He's better," he said, well aware what it was like to be on Squall's silent end. "How much do you know?"

"Laguna called me. I know about the tests," Rinoa said candidly after a brief pause. "He was really taken aback. He said Squall was in pain just by casting simple spells."

Seifer grimaced. "It wasn't pretty at the labs..." His lips sloped downwards at the memory. "But he's better. The medicine is helping. He was able to cast for a couple of hours this morning with just a few breaks—he managed to summon Shiva as well. With that much improvement in a day, he'll be back to normal in no time."

"Yeah?" Rinoa asked, sounding hopeful. "...Squall said it was too soon to tell."

Seifer chuckled. "You know him. Always the pessimist. It'd take a miracle for him to think things could actually work out."

The girl let out an agreeing hum, not seeming half as enthusiastic as he'd expected. What he'd told her was good news. Hell, it was _amazing_ news.

"I'm just about to meet him for a spar. We sparred last night as well. Physically, he's in great form, as always. Won't be long before he's out there getting his hero fix again."

Silence fell between them, the girl showing no sign of relief or elation at what he'd just said.

"...You should call Laguna. I'm sure he'd want to hear all this. He's never been this worried and Squall talks to him even less than he does to me. Squall never tells him anything."

Seifer frowned, not having expected this turn to the conversation. "I got a feeling that was the case," he said, remembering the president's concern for Squall and the hopeful invitation to the palace. He sighed, not really wanting to get stuck as the middle man, but Laguna had turned out to be a good guy. "Okay, I'll give him a call." The only thing that bugged him was Rinoa calling the shots. "Anything else?"

"Well... Since we're on the subject, it would mean the world to Laguna if Squall would just once take him up on those dinner invitations. We were going to visit during Squall's leave, but now... I know it's a long shot, but Squall might at least hear you out."

Seifer raised an eyebrow. "You think he'd go if I asked him to?"

"You got him to take you along to the tests," she replied matter-of-factly. "Whatever your methods, they seem to work."

Unable to deny as much, Seifer leaned forwards in his seat. "My methods, huh?" The only thing he'd done was to refuse a no. He sighed. "I guess there'd be some way of making him… But why? I mean, sure, his dad seems like a great guy and all, but if Squall doesn't want him in his life, then what's the point?"

"They're family, Seifer. I know that might be hard for you and him to understand, but Laguna would do anything for Squall. Unconditional love like that is a rare thing to come by... Squall has spent his entire life thinking he's on his own. Friends, relationships; none of that is set in stone, but Laguna will always be his dad... This could be really good for them both."

Seifer considered the truth in her words. He'd never had parents himself, so he had nothing to base any assumptions on. Sure, if he had a kid of his own, he'd be there whether the kid wanted him to or not. Laguna seemed to be the same, but the unfortunate bastard happened to have the Lion of Balamb as his offspring—no easy task. "All right, I'll see what I can do. I guess it won't hurt to have a President owe me one either."

"Don't worry. You already got into his good books," Rinoa said dryly.

Chuckling at the good news, Seifer put his keys into the ignition. "Yeah?"

"Protective tendencies and everything."

He smiled. "Well, you know how Squall is... Someone's gotta look out for his ass."

"... I knew I made the right choice," the girl said with confidence, though he could hear the pinched quality to her words.

He ran a hand through his hair. "How're you holding up?"

"... I'm coping," she replied softly.

Imagining how hard things had to be for her, Seifer felt a rare twinge of compassion. "Squall told me why you moved to Esthar."

"He did?" she asked, her voice abrupt, breathless. "I—I swear I'm not like that anymore. You have to believe me, I didn't mean to..."

"Mean to what?" Seifer asked, his frown deepening. He didn't like the rushed edge to her words. Quick, sharp inhales of air told him that whatever it was, it deeply upset her.

"To hurt him. I never wanted to…" She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. "I—how much did he tell you?"

"...That you had trouble with your magic. With keeping in control." He tensed up in his seat. "How did you hurt him?" he demanded, all of his protective instincts kicking in.

When he heard nothing but silence, he cursed under his breath. The girl was lucky he wasn't there to force the truth out of her. "_Rinoa_."

"...My powers were messing with my mind… I—I attacked him, Seifer. I hurt him badly."

Narrowing his eyes, Seifer had to move the phone away in order not to snap at her. He clenched his jaw firmly before bringing the cell back up. "_How_?" he asked harshly.

"...We were having a fight. He turned his back to me and I just—I cast this... spell. I still don't know exactly what it was—I wasn't thinking straight…" She paused. "He never saw it coming."

Seifer recalled the raw flesh he'd spotted on Squall's back during their night of Avalanche. "...The scar," he said out loud, waiting for Rinoa to deny his assumption. When no objections came, he grew tense in his seat, his shoulders rigid.

"_I can't believe you_—" his words were cut short when quiet sobs reached him from the other end of the line. He cursed under his breath. He repeated to himself that it had been an accident, however much he wanted to blame her. Something didn't add up though. "It's the scar on his back, right?"

"...You saw," she said, focusing on the wrong part entirely.

"If that's the scar, then how come it looked fresh just a week ago?"

"It won't close up, just keeps festering," she said, her voice shaking.

Seifer frowned, remembering how different it had looked in the SCTA showers. "It's healing now."

"...It is?" the girl asked incredulously, before sharply drawing in her breath. "Hyne... It didn't heal because of _me_, because of the bond."

Filled with an anger that had no outlet, Seifer grit his teeth. Why the hell did Squall have to have such rotten luck? Of all the girls to fall for, of course Squall had to choose a fucking sorceress who couldn't control her powers.

Seifer wanted to yell at her for hurting Squall and for letting the bond drag on for far longer than had been healthy for either of them, but Rinoa was already reduced to tears.

"At least it's healing now," he said, as much to himself as to her.

She breathed in deeply. "...He never blamed me. Not once. He just brought me to Esthar, and never mentioned it again," she said dejectedly. "...I don't think I'll ever really understand him."

"He knows you'd never do anything like that on purpose," he said honestly. Squall wasn't one to bear grudges—the fact that the brunet was staying with him was proof enough. But more than that, Rinoa had managed to get Squall hooked in a way no one else had.

"He loves you." There was no longer any doubt about it in his mind. The answer lay in how much Squall had done for the girl despite how she'd treated him. Squall had moved to Esthar to help her get treatment after she had _attacked_ him. Squall had stayed—

"...Yet he's with you."

Seifer straightened in his seat. He couldn't have heard that fucking right.

"_You_ made sure of that," he bit out, before taking a deep breath. "_Listen._ What happened, happened... and it's fucked up as hell, but that doesn't mean Squall doesn't care about you. After listening to your voice message that morning, he downed a whole fucking bottle of whiskey because he'd hurt you. If that's not love, then I don't know what is."

"...You don't know the first thing about love then," she countered. "Never, not even when I dumped him, did I feel anything that strong from him. That morning had little to do with me."

"Yeah?! Well, enlighten me then!" he spat, his entire body going rigid at her obstinacy.

"You really want me to say it, huh. _Rub it in_," she said, getting worked up too. "He felt more for you that one night than he could ever muster for me. That _enlightening_ enough for you? And I know you want him, but you're so _dense_, you'd sooner screw things up again."

Snorting, Seifer had just about had it with her behavior. "We're back at that? I _told you_. That was fucking Avalanche. If any of that was real on Squall's side, don't you think I'd be busy fucking his brains out back at the apartment right now?" He'd never let the man fucking leave his bed if that was the case. "I can't believe you keep bringing this up. Get over it," he added harshly. "And why the fuck would he want to knock himself out with a bottle of alcohol if he'd wanted any of what happened that night? He could've just come back to bed for round two. Your logic is flawed as hell."

"Try and think with your brain instead of your dick for once, and consider this: Squall drank him himself into oblivion, _because_ it was real for him."

The world around him ground to a halt at her words.

He'd considered how it could've been his own despicable behavior that had led Squall to downing that bottle of whiskey, but after listening to Rinoa's voice message, he'd chalked Squall's reaction up to that... But Rinoa was implying something else. If Squall had felt something, had wanted it... then why would Squall...

Who'd want to have feelings for someone who'd tortured them? For someone you'd fought as an enemy?

But Squall wouldn't be staying with him if that mattered. Hell, they were spending most of their time together, even shared a bed. The brunet had acted protective of him in a way only Raijin and Fujin had done in the past. Just the night before, he'd wondered if there'd been more to their night of Avalanche, the brunet's actions far from innocent. He really fucking needed to know if _any_ of what they'd done that night had been because of Squall.

"Tell me," he urged, remembering how Squall had looked at him like he meant _everything_ to the brunet, how Squall had wanted to feel every fucking inch of him. "Tell me exactly what you felt from him."

'I—" Rinoa started but quickly fell silent. "... I'm not the one you should be talking to about this. I already said too much," she said, trying to take back her words.

"You know he'd never tell me. You know he'd never say a single word about it… This is important, Rinoa." He paused to let his sincerity sink in. "_Tell me_."

"... Wasn't it obvious?" the girl asked, her voice tight. "You were there. You—" Her words were cut off by a choked sob. "I can't do this. I'm sorry. I really have to go."

"Rinoa—" Seifer said, but the line went dead.

He let his phone fall into the passenger seat. Staring in front of him, her words repeated over and over in his head. He had trouble believing what she'd said, but the tone of her voice put everything into sharp clarity.

She was certain Squall had feelings for him.

Heart pumping fast, Seifer wanted nothing more than to track down the brunet and get the truth out of him—any method necessary. This wasn't fair. Squall knew everything about his sexuality and how hot he thought Squall was, while he had no fucking clue what went on inside the brunet's head. If Squall wanted to fool around, then why the hell hadn't the man even _hinted_ at it. He'd given him plenty of opportunities. He'd fucking _stripped_ in front of the guy the night before just to get a reaction, and had just been promptly ignored.

If Squall had a thing for him, then the man had obviously decided not to act on it. Seifer got back out of the pickup and slammed the door shut behind him. Squall was fucking toying with him.

He took a deep breath, reminding himself the man wasn't capable of it. Squall might be cynical and cold as ice in some respects, but from what he knew the brunet was stupidly naive when it came to relationships. Hell, Squall had been completely baffled at him calling out Shiva's ostentatious flirting.

Why was Squall pretending he wasn't affected? What harm was there in a bit of fooling around?

He leaned back against the cool metal door. Did it even matter what Squall's reasons were? Shouldn't he respect them either way? But _fuck…_ to imagine Squall hadn't been averse to being fucked like that—to have enjoyed being sucked off and fingerfucked at the same time, and to have _wanted _it fast and rough... He groaned as all blood rushed south, and wished he was back at his apartment. A quick bit of self-gratification wouldn't have gone amiss. Instead he opened the door to his pickup and got back inside, killing any arousal.

Turning the keys in the ignition, he knew there was nothing else to do but see where Squall led him. He couldn't let his imagination run wild or demand things to be exactly how he wanted them. What mattered was Squall getting some respite. By the sound of it, the man's relationship with Rinoa had been a fuck fest extraordinaire—and not the good kind. If Squall was cured of wanting any sort of relationship, even if it was a purely physical one, he couldn't blame the guy.

He'd have to fucking reel in his hormones and let Squall set the pace. He'd show the guy a good time, and if the man showed an interest in more, he'd be more than willing to oblige. Hell, he should be thanking Hyne to just have his sparring partner back and to be able to cast magic again.

Reversing out of the driveway, he sped up as soon as he was on the main road. It was only a matter of minutes before he'd be at the SCTA and then he could scrutinize Squall properly before beating the brunet's ass into the ground when they sparred. If Squall was going to deny himself a taste of Seifer's goods, then he'd make damned sure the man knew exactly what he was missing.

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**A/N:** Thank you for all your reviews of the last chapter - they definitely motivated us to work on this chapter :) Hope you guys enjoy it!

We also wanted to give you a heads up that Wolkje has just begun posting a separate Seifer and Squall story called Tabula Rasa. Hope you enjoy that as well! :)


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